


Crackship Armada Sexytimes

by ozhawk



Series: The Soulmates Continue [12]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Daredevil (TV), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: All the Smut, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Animal Instincts, Animal Traits, BDSM, Bonding, Collars, Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, Double Penetration, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Handcuffs, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Mild Kink, Multi, NSFW, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Spanking, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M, Vibrators, just so much porn, see what I mean about all the smut?, shower smut, so don't read if you don't like smut!, soulbonds, this fic is about smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 131,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4217454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozhawk/pseuds/ozhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <strong>So, when bored the other day, I put up a post on <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ozhawkauthor">Tumblr</a> asking people to prompt me for what pairings from the original <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/5941115">Crackship Armada</a> they would like to see a smut sequel scene for. And no, I haven’t quit writing more Crackships. I’ve been planning this for a while and just couldn’t decide which ship to start with.</strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Index

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Soulmate Shorts AKA The Crackship Armada](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407) by [ozhawk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozhawk/pseuds/ozhawk). 



> **If you don’t have Tumblr but would like to request a smut chapter continuation, please feel free to ask in the comments! Note that I will try to write a smutscene for ANY pairing from the[original index ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/5941115)EXCEPT those that already have a sequel including smut (not all the sequels do) or if I know that there is a sequel in-progress that includes smut.**   
>  **(one request per comment, please, as I am trying to write in order!)**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting long enough that an Index is required, so here it is!

2\. Skye/Bruce

3\. Skye/Gambit

4\. Skye/Logan/Deadpool

5\. Bucky/Beth

6\. Pyro/Iceman/Skye

7\. Bucky/Brock

8\. Skye/Pietro

9\. Darcy/Gambit

10\. Skye/Rollins

11\. Jemma/Colossus

12\. Skye/Bucky

13\. Skye/Brock

14\. Jemma/Matt Murdock

15\. Skye/Johnny Storm

16\. Darcy/Victor

17\. Pyro/Iceman/Jemma

18\. Skye/Logan 

19\. Steve/Bucky/Sif

20\. Rumlow/Gambit/Darcy

21\. Jean Grey/Scott Summers/Skye

22\. Skye/Peter Parker

23\. Steve/Bucky/Jemma

24\. Bucky/Fitz

25\. Jemma/Quicksilver

26\. Darcy/Hunter

27\. Rumlow/Beth

28\. Bucky/Bobbi


	2. Skye/Bruce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Anyway, the first person to answer my request was dwyn5002… so without further ado, here’s the requested Skye/Bruce smut… this follows on from[Chapter 63, _We’ve All Got Baggage_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/6979964).**   
>  _Note – timescale-wise, this is after Age of Ultron. Only BruceNat wasn’t a thing (shudders) and Bruce turned back up after a few weeks having had a nice relaxing vacation in Fiji, as Fury implied. He’s now living in the New Avengers Facility._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/mark%20ruffalo%201_zpsbzj6vmt6.jpg.html)

_Just realised I should chuck in a sexy photo at the beginning of the chapter, so here. Have a delicious Mark Ruffalo..._

“Nice digs,” Skye said flippantly, following Bruce into his suite and dumping her bag by the couch.

“Um,” Bruce looked around distractedly, shrugged. “Yeah. Well. It’s home, these days. Suits me better than the fancy apartment Stark had done up for me in Avengers Tower.”

He had nice taste, Skye thought. The major furnishings were in neutral, soothing tones, splashes of colour added here and there with a few eclectic items. A lovely blue and silver Indian wall hanging, a Native American patterned rug she thought might be Hopi arranged over the back of the couch, a carved South American wooden piece in the corner.

Bruce was watching Skye from the corner of his eye as she moved around the room, her long, slender fingers trailing lightly over his things. She stopped at the bookshelf for several long minutes, surveying the titles before suddenly spinning around and catching him staring at her.

Bruce flushed hotly. She’d caught him staring, admiring her incredulously – because she was seriously beautiful. And perhaps his expression was unguarded enough that she guessed what he was thinking, because she came walking over to him, her hips moving in an unconscious sway as graceful as it was seductive, the more so because he suspected it wasn’t intentional at all. She stopped be the kitchen counter he was standing behind – necessarily, to conceal his arousal, the stretchy pants didn’t help hide that _at all_ – and smiled up at him through her lashes.

“So, handsome,” Skye said, guessing correctly that Bruce was far too shy to take the initiative, “am I gonna have to get you drunk to take advantage of you? Because if so, let’s break out the booze.”

Bruce flushed even darker. “I don’t drink. I – you know, the Other Guy. Don’t want to risk losing control.”

Skye tilted her head at him slightly, considering. “That’s a shame, because you look like you could do with a little loosening up. Maybe I could give you a massage instead?”

He gulped. “Skye. We need to talk about this.”

“About what?”

“I can’t – the thing is, you see – when my heart-rate increases…” he was stuttering like a teenage boy with his first crush, Bruce realised despairingly. He stopped, tried again, and blurted “I can’t have sex!”

_Oh no, that was definitely worse._

Skye’s eyebrows flew up, and then she smiled. “When was the last time that you tried?”

His mind flew back to Betty. “A long time ago.”

“Before you and Hulk came to an understanding, right? Before you were able to _choose_ when to let him out?”

“Well… yes. But I don’t want to risk you, Skye. I _won’t_ risk you.”

Skye smiled at him. “That is so sweet.”

His blush returned, full force, and she couldn’t resist rounding the counter. “I’m dangerous too, you know. I haven’t tried having sex since I changed, got my powers. Who knows, I might be the one to lose control, not you.”

Bruce’s eyes widened as Skye got close. “Besides,” she said in a light, teasing tone, “I’m betting the Big Guy likes me, hmm? I mean, he could have splattered me out there in the field, but he just kind of looked at me and smiled before collapsing and turning back into you.”

“ _What_?” Bruce gaped at her. “You were there _before_ I turned back?”

“Yes,” Skye agreed. “You really don’t remember what happens, do you?”

“Most of it, no,” he shook his head. “Skye, you must stay away when I’m in that form. I could hurt you.”

“You could,” she nodded. “But I don’t think you will.”

 _When had she come so close?_ She was standing right in front of him, looking up at him from her deep brown eyes, a smile curving her lush mouth.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the way she’d tasted, the way she’d pulled him down and pressed that lush mouth to his, how she’d nibbled on his lower lip and… his breathing was coming really quickly, and Hulk was nowhere near the surface. Quite the opposite. He seemed to be utterly relaxed, contented in his little corner of Bruce’s mind.

Bruce’s lips were parted, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked down at Skye, and she stepped in closer again, sliding her arms around his waist. He was lean and fit, his arms strong as he instinctively wrapped them around her.

“How about,” Skye said softly, “we take things slow, and if you feel like there’s going to be a problem, we just stop? Hmm?”

“I really don’t think I’ll _want_ to stop,” Bruce admitted huskily.

Skye smirked. “Well, then, you’d better let me be on top. Just in case I need to make a quick getaway.”

She was close enough to feel the jump of his arousal against her stomach, and her smirk widened. “I see _someone_ likes that idea.”

Coulson had provided him with a T-shirt when the quinjet picked them up, and Skye’s hands slid up under the back of it now, drawing it gently upwards. “You can’t object to me taking this off. I already saw that delicious chest.”

Bruce blushed again, and she laughed softly. “You’re adorable.”

“I feel like a dorky teenager again,” he admitted, lifting his arms and letting her pull the shirt off over his head.

Skye grinned, running her fingers into his thick mat of chest hair, tracing the firm pectoral muscles. “Haven’t ever seen a teenage boy looking like this.”

“I’m kind of hairy,” Bruce muttered apologetically.

“Hot. As. Fuck.” She looked up at him through those long lashes again before bending her head and very deliberately licking over one tight male nipple.

“Oh my God.”

“Let’s take this to a bed,” Skye murmured, kissing her way across his chest, hooking two fingers into the front of his pants and tugging gently.

Bruce couldn’t make any sound but “Nnngghhh,” as he willingly moved, directing her to his bedroom. Within a minute he was flat on his back on the bed, Skye kneeling astride his hips, smiling down at him, her long dark brown hair tumbling down around his face.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bruce whispered wonderingly. His fingers traced shyly up her outer thighs, paused at her waist. “Would you…?”

“Take this off? Sure,” Skye crossed her arms at her waist and pulled her shirt up and off, tossing it aside and looking back down at Bruce. His tongue slipped out to moisten his lips as he stared at the black lace barely covering her breasts.

“Wow,” Bruce muttered thickly. “That is – wow, I didn’t expect that. Thought you’d have some practical sports thingy on.”

Skye smiled, taking one of his hands in hers. He had nice hands, broad palms and long, capable fingers. “I like to wear pretty things, under my clothes,” she whispered softly, bringing his hand to her lips and flicking her tongue lightly over his fingertips. “It’s my secret, though. Nobody knows but you and me.” She sucked his index finger into her mouth then, her cheeks hollowing, her tongue stroking up the underside of his finger, swirling on the sensitive pad of his fingertip.

Bruce made a _sound_ deep in his throat, somewhere between a squeak and a growl, and Skye’s eyes flew to his, checking for any telltale gleam of green. But no, he was just staring at her with his pupils blown wide, his breath coming in quick, hungry pants.

Letting his finger out of her mouth with a wet _pop_ , Skye smiled down at Bruce. “Are we all – not-green, here?”

He smiled back. “Not green at all.” He actually had the oddest feeling that Hulk had gone to _sleep_.

“That’s good. You’re going to tell me if things get a bit too green for you, hmm?” Skye was still holding his hand, and she drew it down lower now, brought his wet index finger to her nipple, circled gently around it through the thin lace.

Bruce swallowed. “Yup.” His free hand was moving up almost of its own volition, caressing her other breast, plucking lightly at her nipple. She had small breasts, in keeping with her slight build, but her nipples were plump and juicy and he wanted, very badly, to taste. Shifting her slightly back onto his thighs, he sat up, relishing Skye’s appreciative look as his abdominal muscles rippled. He might not be as cut as his fellow Avengers, but he put in his hours in the gym.

“May I?” he slipped his hand from her grasp, moved it around behind her and plucked lightly at the clasp of her bra.

“Oh please do,” Skye agreed, and a moment later he’d popped the clasp and drawn the lacy fabric away, discarding it and staring rapturously at her breasts for a moment before leaning forward and tracing his tongue lightly over a swollen, pouting nipple.

“Mm,” Skye let her head fall back, relaxed into Bruce’s touch as his fingers teased and tweaked the other breast. One firm hand between her shoulder blades, he held her steady as he enjoyed her breasts, investigating how sensitive she was, rolling her nipple in his mouth and suckling on it, slowly increasing the pressure until she moaned, her hips rocking against him.

It might have been a long time for Bruce, but he’d quite obviously not forgotten whatever he’d learned, Skye thought a little dazedly as he worshipped her breasts with his mouth and his talented fingers. She put one hand to the back of his head to hold him to her, running her fingers into his fluffy curls, her other hand landing on his shoulder and holding on tight, her fingertips digging lightly into the solid muscle there.

“Delicious,” Bruce whispered, letting her nipple slip from his mouth and kissing his way across to the other breast. He nipped lightly at the fleshy curve beneath her nipple and Skye moaned louder, her hips jerking slightly. “So sweet. Do you like that, hmm?”

“Yes,” she gasped out, fingers tightening in his hair. “Ahhh. Yes!” as he used the edge of his teeth against her nipple, lightly nipping before soothing the little bite with his hot tongue. Her nails sank into his shoulder and it was Bruce’s turn to moan, the sound muffled around her breast.

He was achingly hard, very glad of his stretchy pants as otherwise the constriction would likely be painful. As it was, Skye was grinding lightly against him and he could feel her heat through the thin layers of cloth separating them. Slowly, he slipped the hand that had been playing with her breast down over her flat stomach, unbuttoned her pants. Skye moaned and rocked against his hand as his fingers explored, finding damp lace and scorching heat. Edging the lace aside, the tip of his middle finger just grazed her clit.

“Oh God, Bruce,” Skye shuddered as he sucked hard on her nipple at the same time. “Yes. _Please_.”

“I got you, beautiful,” he whispered against her hot skin, shifting them, laying her down beside him gently, pulling her pants further down so he could get his hand in deeper. She shoved at her pants impatiently, but she’d forgotten she was still wearing boots and ended up with the fabric tangled around her ankles as she groaned impatiently.

“Easy!” Bruce found himself chuckling, “easy, Skye. No rush.” Moving down the bed, he sat on the edge and took one foot into his lap, unlacing her boot.

“Ugh,” Skye muttered, “there _is_ a rush, I _need_ you.” She threw her forearm over her eyes, a little embarrassed to look at him, wondering if she’d been a bit too forward. If he would think she was slutty.

“No,” he said, “no rush. Let’s do this right.” Easing off her boot, he peeled off the sock beneath and took her other foot in his hands, looking up along her body, seeing her arm over her eyes and her face flushed red. He hesitated, and then made himself finish removing her clothes, looking at her laid on his bed. “I’m still wondering if this is all just the best dream I ever had. I don’t want it to be over too quickly.”

That made her smile, and she lifted her arm and peeked at him. “Not a dream. At least, if it is, I’m having it too.”

Bruce smiled. He was still holding her feet in his lap, and he moved them back onto the bed now, knelt and started to kiss his way slowly along her calves. “It’s a really excellent dream, isn’t it?”

Skye parted her legs, smiling as his fingers slid along her inner thighs. “Fantastic. Be even better if you were naked too.”

He paused a moment, and then shrugged. Hulk was definitely asleep in the corner of his mind. Straightening up for a moment, he kicked off the trainers Coulson had provided and shucked his pants.

“Oooh, _hello_ ,” Skye eyed Bruce lasciviously. He was leanly muscled all over, and Little Bruce was definitely _very_ interested in the proceedings – and not _little_ at all. Bruce flushed slightly, and then laughed.

“’S been a long time for me, Skye, and I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to carry through. Let me give you a good time first.” And he knelt between her parted legs.

“Oh, I can live with that,” she agreed very happily. “Best. Dream. _Ever_.” It got even better as he lowered his head and she felt his lightly stubbled chin rub against her inner thigh as he pressed kisses over his words there, trailing slowly upwards. One strong arm slid under her thigh and he lifted it over his shoulder, opening her up for him. Skye dug her fingers into the mattress as she felt warm breath flowing over her clit a moment before his tongue ghosted lightly over the swollen little bud. She bit her lip, suppressing a loud cry.

“Don’t hold back,” Bruce whispered between light flickers of his tongue over already-dripping folds. “I want to hear you. Want to hear whether you like what I’m doing.”

So she let it out. Moaned and squealed as his tongue and lips worked hungrily, sobbed his name as two strong fingers slid inside her suddenly, crooking deftly to caress her inner walls, searching for the tiny bundle of nerves. He smiled against her when he found it, Skye letting him know as her body bucked against him and she _screamed_ with pleasure, wetness flooding over his hand and face.

Skye was almost sobbing as she came down slowly, Bruce’s fingers stroking still, massaging her clit gently, his warm lips pressing soft kisses up her stomach to her breasts before his tongue traced delicate circles around her sensitive nipples. She brought a shaking hand to his head, caressed his fluffy dark hair.

“Th-thank you,” she slurred out.

Bruce chuckled quietly, his lips vibrating slightly against her nipple making her shudder with a renewed shock of pleasure. “Oh, beautiful. Thank _you_.”

She had to lie still for a moment, gathering her strength, as his fingers caressed her folds and his mouth worshipped her breast. And then she tightened her fingers in his hair and pulled lightly, making him lift his head to look at her.

“Big Green behaving himself?”

“I think he’s asleep,” Bruce admitted, still stunned about that, especially since he suspected his heart rate was up through the roof.

Skye smiled. “Good. We can rock the cradle, then,” she said teasingly, and with a deft twist of her body, Bruce found himself suddenly flipped to his back, Skye sliding down over him with a wicked light in her eyes. He choked as she clamped her knees to his ribs, sitting up and reaching behind her with a smirk, her fingers wrapping around his straining cock.

“Oh Jesus,” he had to shut his eyes, the sight of her too much for his overloading senses. “ _Skye_ ,” her name spilled from his lips as she positioned herself and sank down slowly on him.

“ _Bruce_ ,” she groaned back, sinking lower, taking him deeper and deeper until she was seated on his groin, his throbbing, aching length buried to the hilt inside her.

Strong hands tightened on her hips and he held her still for a moment, taking slow, deep breaths, trying to win back some control. “Easy,” he whispered as Skye let out a pleading little whine, her fingers settling on his forearms, her hips rocking slightly. “Easy, sweetheart, you’re gonna make me come too fast.”

“’S’alright,” she mumbled hazily, “just – _move_.”

“Sshh,” he sat up, parting his knees and pushing her back a little, one hand sliding to the small of her back to support her. “Lean back.” She obeyed, groaning as the change in angle suddenly put pressure on her g-spot.

“Ah, Bruce, yesssss!” Skye shuddered as he shifted, the head of his cock running repeatedly over that most sensitive spot as he began to thrust gently. “So good!” She reached up to hold onto his shoulders, rocked against him, moaning as he sped up his thrusts.

“That’s it,” Bruce gritted out, “that’s it, beautiful, oh Skye, oh God I can’t stop.”

“Don’t you _dare_ stop!” she demanded, digging her nails into his shoulders. “Let _go_ , Bruce, give it to me…”

It had been so long since Bruce had permitted himself a release, he’d forgotten how it felt. His whole body convulsed, wracking shudders ripping through him as thick pulses of come spurted deep into Skye’s willing body, stars bursting behind his closed eyelids.

Hulk stirred in the back of his mind and gave a deeply contented sigh.

“Shh,” Skye whispered, “it’s all right, it’s all right, Bruce.” Her hands were gentle on his cheeks, and he realised there were tears streaming from his eyes. Skye kissed his eyelids, wrapped her arms around him and held him close; he hugged her tighter and pressed kisses against her neck.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled thickly.

“Don’t be,” she told him softly, stroking her fingers through his fluffy hair gently, pulling back to look him in the eyes, leaning down to kiss him. “That was beautiful. Everything I could have wanted for my first time with my soulmate.”

“If that’s supposed to make me stop blubbering, it’s not working,” he confessed, and she chuckled and hugged him tightly again.

“We’ve got our whole lives to get it even better,” Skye whispered against Bruce’s hair. “Practice makes perfect, after all.”

That made him laugh huskily, and Skye shivered as his still half-erect cock moved inside her. Bruce smiled, worked a hand in between them. “I came a little too quickly for you there, didn’t I?”

“I already _ahhhh_ ,” she trailed off in a moan as his fingers scissored over her clit.

“I know. I’m just getting in some more practice.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hot or not? I’m hoping you found it hot!**


	3. Skye/Gambit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Follows[Chapter 35, _How About That Drink?_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/6417602)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by mzztomboi + TWD

[ ](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Remy/TaylorKitschasTheoPendragon1_zps95272335.jpg.html)

Skye had let Remy buy her a drink, and then another, and then he gallantly walked her home. Well, to the little apartment she was calling home while she and Lincoln set up a medical centre to help Inhumans who’d been affected by the fish oil and suddenly developed powers.

“You could come in for coffee,” she offered shyly as Remy leaned against the wall beside her door, as she fumbled for her keys.

“Could I, _cher_?” his eyes glinted red at her, his lips quirking up in a knowing little smirk.

Skye found herself blushing, stuttering, feeling foolish until he shook his head. “Not tonight, _cher_. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything, because you don’t. I’d have done the same for any woman I saw _le cafard_ harassing. The fact that you turned out to be my soulmate, well, that’s just Remy’s good luck, _non_?” He took her hand in his, lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of it gently, his full upper lip catching and dragging sensually across her knuckles.

Skye was suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. “I don’t feel like I owe you anything,” she managed to get out. “I just. I want.”

“ _Oui_?” his eyes glimmered. “What is it that you want, _cher_?”

She couldn’t speak. Could only stare up at him, her lips parted, suddenly quite desperate to touch him. To have him touch her.

“You want Remy, _cher_?” his voice dropped even lower, a husky rasp that sent shivers through her. “ _Voulez-vous couchez avec moi, ce soir_?”

Skye found herself smiling at that, probably the one phrase in French most Americans would be able to understand. “Yes,” she said in a high, thready voice that sounded very much unlike her own.

 _“C’est bien”_ , he was still holding her hand, lifted it back to his lips without breaking eye contact, turned it over and nibbled lightly at the base of her thumb. “Because I want you more than I want to breathe right now,” he whispered, and Skye’s knees buckled. A powerful arm slid around her waist, and he pressed her back against the door. “Let’s go inside, _cher_ ,” Remy murmured, taking the key from Skye’s suddenly nerveless fingers.

They stumbled in through the door, clinging to each other, and Lincoln looked up from the couch, shooting to his feet as he saw a strange man coming in with Skye.

“Skye, who’s this?”

“My soulmate,” Skye gabbled quickly, seeing Lincoln’s fingertips starting to glow blue. “Just met him. Rescued me from Ward. He’s my soulmate.”

“Ah.” Lincoln looked from one to the other of them, made his mind up, and backed hastily towards his bedroom door. “I’m gonna be, ah, in my room. Sleeping. Wearing earplugs. Good night!”

The door slammed, and Remy grinned. “Your roommate is completely useless at looking out for you.”

“He trusts me to take care of myself, there’s a difference,” Skye reproved. “I could have taken care of Ward even if you hadn’t come along, believe me. I was worried he’d hurt _you_ , not me.”

That made Remy smile, and she realised how silly that remark sounded now that she’d seen what he could do. He seemed even bigger in the tiny living room of the apartment, and looking up she realised he must be at least six foot two. He’d removed his hat and his rich brown hair tumbled around his face. Skye found herself staring in wonder at him, seeing him in decent light for the first time, because he was flat out the handsomest man she’d ever seen, his face all carved angles, his hell-cored eyes striking as he gazed down at her.

“You are _beautiful_ ,” she said, awed.

Remy laughed quietly. “That’s my line, _ma belle_.” He set his hat on the small coffee table, shrugged out of his long leather coat. Underneath he wore a silk shirt with a tightly-fitting black waistcoat, both of which showed off broad shoulders and a narrow waist. And, as he turned away from Skye to lay his coat over the back of the couch, an absolutely spectacular ass in his close-fitting black pants.

Skye’s throat was dry. “Coffee?” she managed to get out as Remy turned back towards her.

He cocked a dark eyebrow consideringly. “If that’s all that’s on offer, _ma belle_.” His voice dropped to that husky, intimate tone again. “Though I was hoping for dessert.”

“Oh,” Skye blinked. “There might be some ice cream in the freezer, if Lincoln didn’t eat it all…” she realised she’d misinterpreted him when he laughed, low and sultry. Skye’s cheeks flamed and she didn’t know where to look.

“I _would_ like some ice cream.” Remy moved closer, backing Skye slowly against the wall, his big hand coming up to curve gently around her waist. “I would like to eat it off you,” he whispered in her ear, before catching her earlobe in his teeth and nipping lightly.

Skye would have been embarrassed by the noise she made then – a high, frantic whine – except that it was pretty much drowned out by the hungry growl rumbling in Remy’s chest. It was only the wall holding Skye up as her knees sagged, her fingers clutching at Remy’s waistcoat.

“We can do this here where your roommate might come out and catch us, _cher_ ,” Remy rumbled, his lips caressing her throat, “or you can point me to your room.”

“Over – there,” Skye moaned, her head tilted back to give him greater access to her neck. His mouth should be an illegal weapon, he was that talented with it. He didn’t stop his attentions to her throat, just scooped her off her feet, his arms and shoulders surging with muscle, and carried her to the door she’d waved vaguely at.

Her bed wasn’t very big – she’d given Lincoln the queen-bed room because he was taller, despite the fact that he’d tried to be chivalrous. Skye had got used to sleeping first in her van, then the Bus’s tiny bunks, then the barely-bigger bunk in the Playground. Actually having a _double_ bed seemed like the height of luxury. Sharing it with a guy as big as Remy was – not actually going to be a problem, Skye realised, as he laid her down and came down right on top of her, his mouth still teasing and caressing her throat. She honestly felt like she could come just from that, but he clearly didn’t intend to stop there, his mouth working down to her collarbones, nipping and licking.

Skye fumbled at the buttons of his shirt and waistcoat – at least one button popped off the shirt in her desperation – and Remy laughed darkly and shrugged out of them, dropping them off the side of the bed.

“Oh hell yes,” Skye muttered as she got a good look at his chest, thick with muscle. She saw the corner of his mouth curve up, and then his hands were on her, just as talented as that wicked mouth, deftly removing her shirt and bra, unbuttoning her jeans. Skye helped as best she could, eager for him to touch her all over, and moments later she lay nude before him.

“ _Magnifique_ ,” Remy murmured, looking down at Skye, and then he stood. “I’ll be right back, _cher_.”

“ _What_?” Skye shot upright, but he’d already walked out, giving her a very nice view of his muscled back. “Remy!”

“ _Un moment, cher_!” He was indeed back in just a moment, his leather coat draped over one arm and – _oh Lord_ – a container of Ben and Jerry’s in the other hand. Skye’s eyes went very wide. Remy grinned wickedly. “Did you think I was joking, _cher_?”

“Um,” was about all she could get out.

“Because I was not.” He put the coat down on her dresser, seated himself on the bed beside her, produced a spoon from his pants pocket with a flourish. “If you will permit?”

“I – guess?” Skye said uncertainly. She’d experimented with food play once, with Miles. He’d enjoyed having the whipped cream eaten off him a lot more than she had.

“If you do not like, I will stop, _non_?” Remy shrugged elegantly. “I do not doubt you will be delicious enough without added flavour.” His tongue slid slowly over his full upper lip, and Skye nodded helplessly. For the sake of that talented mouth on her, she’d agree to almost anything.

“ _Bien_. Close your eyes. Trust me. You do not like, you say so, _oui_?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, closing her eyes. He took both her hands in one of his big ones, lifted them above her head and pressed them gently against the pillow, telling her wordlessly to leave them there. Skye laced her fingers together obediently, prepared to give him leeway.

“Good girl. We start slow, you see. With that which is already familiar.” A cold dampness on her lower lip and she licked instinctively, tasting Phish Food. Remy groaned at the sight of her tongue flickering over her lip, bent his head and kissed her, drawing her lip into his mouth and biting gently. “Okay?” he asked quietly, drawing back.

“Yes,” Skye answered softly.

“All right. Did you ever spill ice cream down your chin?” Coldness there next, followed by his hot mouth. “Perhaps a little fell on your chest.” Just below her collarbone. “Trickled down here?” The spoon ran lightly between her breasts, and he took his time licking it up. “Still okay, Skye?” he checked.

“Y-yes.” She was panting, frantic. The spoon traced a slow cold circle around her right breast, and she arched up. “Remy,” she whined frantically.

“Hush, _ma belle_.” His breath was so warm against her skin as he lapped up the coldness. “Remy will give you what you want. What you need.”

Melting ice cream trickled around her other breast. Skye arched up into his mouth as he chased the droplets with his tongue. He hadn’t gone anywhere near her nipples yet and they were peaked and aching, pulses of heat running along every nerve.

“ _Please_.”

Remy laughed huskily and a strand of his hair brushed over Skye’s nipple. She lost it completely, unclenching her fingers and grabbing for him, getting a double handful of hair and tugging him up over her, kissing him with a frantic urgency as she brought his mouth to hers, her legs wrapping around his waist, her nipples pushing into his hard chest as she arched up against him, the friction bringing her little relief.

Remy had planned to hold out, to take Skye far further into mindless need, but he’d reckoned without the soulmate bond. His mark was on his lower back, and as her legs wrapped around him a sudden heat ripped through him and he realised hers must be on her calf. If he hadn’t still had pants on he’d have lost it completely and plunged into her right then. As it was he thrust frantically and futilely against her for a moment, maddened with need.

“ _Ralentissez_!” he gasped, then realising Skye wouldn’t understand, “slow down, slow, _ma belle_ Skye – wait.” He got an arm behind him, grabbed her ankle and lifted her leg off his back. His head cleared almost instantly.

“ _Now_ ,” she demanded, tugging on his hair. He kissed her, smiling against her mouth.

“I still have my pants on, _cher_. And my boots. And I need to get a condom from my coat pocket.”

“Oh,” Skye’s eyes opened to see him smiling down at her. He’d still barely touched her, and yet she was absolutely frantic to feel him inside her. “Please, Remy,” she whimpered. “Want you, so bad.”

“I know how you feel,” he said softly, and the flaring red core in his eyes made her think that he felt exactly the same, though he had better control of it. “I feel it too, my lovely Skye. But you make me feel sixteen again, a callow youth who will fire off too early and not bring you pleasure. I could not bear to disappoint you so.”

“You won’t,” Skye promised, “I feel like I’m just about to come anyway, please, Remy, don’t torment me like this!” She still had her hands tangled in his hair, and he studied her face for a moment before nodding.

“Let me bring you, then,” his voice was soft and silkily seductive as he lifted his weight off her, moved to one side and ran his hand down her stomach. “And then you can make your poor Remy lose his mind.”

Skye was beyond objecting as his long fingers slid between her parted thighs. She let go of his hair, putting her hands to his shoulders instead, hanging on to the heavy muscle there.

“So wet,” Remy whispered, his tongue going to work again around the delicate shell of her ear, making her moan and shudder even as he traced her folds with a light touch. A fingertip skated lightly over her clit and Skye gave a guttural moan, bucking against his hand. “So hot for me.” One long finger plunged deep suddenly, his thumb chafing roughly, tipping Skye quickly over the edge. Slick muscles clamped down on his finger, her whole body convulsing, her head thrashing from side to side, broken cries spilling from her mouth.

“ _Mon dieu_ , so beautiful!” Remy groaned, leaning up on his elbow and gazing reverently down at Skye, her body a tautly arched, quivering bow. Gently he eased her down with soft, gentle touches, stroking her flanks and her stomach until she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

“Get your pants off _right the fuck now_ ,” Skye growled, and Remy chuckled.

“As you command, _ma belle_ ,” and he sat up, reaching down to pull off his boots.

The carton of ice cream was still sitting on the bed, lid off, and Skye grabbed it with shaking fingers and put it on her nightstand. By the time she’d put the lid on and found the spoon, Remy was reclining on the bed, nude and utterly magnificent.

“Wow,” Skye muttered, her eyes tracing down over him incredulously, “I am one _lucky_ girl.” He looked almost too perfect to be real, every muscle chiselled hard under smooth golden skin. His cock was standing up, flushed and thick, a dribble of pre-cum seeping from the tip. Skye licked her lips unconsciously.

Remy groaned low in his chest. “Do not look at me like that, Skye, or I will not be able to behave myself.”

“Haven’t I just made it quite clear that I don’t want you to behave yourself?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him, reaching for the foil packet he’d set on the bed.

His eyes gleamed hellish red, his grin wicked. “Yes, but there’s badly behaved and then there’s rough.”

“Perhaps,” Skye said, ripping open the packet, “I should make it clear that I don’t mind rough, either.”

She was quite sure that the string of French Remy let out then wouldn’t have been out of place in a seedy Marseillaise bar full of drunken sailors. “Now, now,” she wagged a finger at him, “language.”

He chuckled, then hissed between his teeth as she started to roll the condom down onto him, his head tipping back, eyes closing. Skye took the opportunity to lean down over him, to kiss his chest, lick her way along the thick curve of his pectoral muscles. His big hand slid into her hair, holding her close.

“You feel so good, _ma belle_ ,” Remy whispered, “you set me afire.”

It was a poetic way to put it, but Skye knew exactly what he meant. From the very first instant that his skin had touched hers, her whole body had been straining towards him, her every instinct screaming at her that she needed _more_ , needed _everything_. It was the soulmate bond drawing them together, she knew, a pull that was almost impossible to resist. Not that she _wanted_ to resist. Far from it.

With the condom secured, Skye moved to straddle Remy’s thighs. He smiled up at her. “Perhaps it’s best this way, the first time.”

“Why?” Skye had to ask.

“I told you. I do not think I’d be able to keep myself from being rough.”

Positioning herself over him, Skye wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, leaned down to kiss him as she eased downwards, relishing the hungry rumble he made deep in his chest. He was thick and long, in proportion to his tall, powerful frame, and even though she was thoroughly aroused it had been a long time for Skye and she had to take it slowly, move down in small increments, allow herself to adjust.

“I told you,” she whispered against his lips, once she had him fully sheathed inside her. Remy was shuddering, his teeth clenched, his hands gripping her hips. “I like it rough.”

Remy’s control snapped, and with a sudden surge of muscle he flipped them over. “You’re sure?” he gritted out, looking in her eyes.

“Oh hell yes,” Skye gasped as his hips rocked in a slow thrust. “Yes, Remy, do it, fuck me, fuck me _hard_!” the last word was a squeal as he obeyed, withdrawing almost completely before slamming back deep. “Oh God. Oh God, yes, please, please, harder!” Her nails clawed furrows in his shoulders and he growled, stilling before slipping a hand under her thigh.

“Bond with me?” he said, his voice low and rough, but there was still a question in it.

“Yes,” there was no hesitation in her response. “Where…?”

“My back. Our words, they touched earlier, I think.” Sliding his hand along her leg, he lifted it around his hip, pulled her calf against his lower back, his eyes locked with hers. He saw the instant their marks touched again in her eyes, as well as felt it himself; like electricity it raced through both of them.

“Oh,” Skye’s eyes glazed. “Oh, _yes_.” She could feel him, feel the leashed power in his body, far greater than she’d expected, but then he was more than human, she already knew that. And she could feel his arousal, his desperate need for release, held in check by the force of his will alone. “ _Remy_ ,” she whispered, awed.

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” he muttered in return, stunned by the depth and complexity of her mind, by her indomitable will. “ _Tu es magnifique_. _Incroyable_.”

They stayed still for a moment, staring at each other, and then Remy moved, slow and gentle, sighing ecstatically as he felt Skye’s pleasure as well as his own. Skye’s lips parted on a soft gasp, she wrapped her other leg around him too, hooking her heels over the backs of his thighs and trying to pull him against her.

“More,” she begged, and there was no way Remy could _not_ give her what he now knew they _both_ wanted quite desperately.

“ _Je t’aimerai_ ,” he said deeply before bending his head to kiss her, “ _jusqu’à la fin du monde_ ,” and he began to thrust, _hard_.

Skye had never felt anything like it, their meshed souls complete in a way she could never have envisioned. Remy was over her, inside her, _enveloping_ her, his powerful arms cradling her tenderly even as he fucked into her hard, French endearments gasped against her lips as they both neared climax. And then with one final, almost brutal thrust, the wave broke over Skye, her whole body tensing and shuddering, her internal muscles clamping down tightly on Remy’s cock.

“Skye!” Even if Remy hadn’t been right on the edge himself already, there was no way he could have held back against the dual sensations of Skye’s silky passage milking him hard and the extreme pleasure he shared with her through their newly-forged bond. He groaned her name, his back bowing, the orgasm going on and on as ecstasy rippled back and forth along the link between them.

When he lifted his head, drawing back with extreme reluctance to ease gently out of Skye, take his weight off her, she was looking up at him with an expression of wonder.

“You. Are. Perfect,” he punctuated the words with kisses, making her smile. “ _Perfect_.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, but he knew her now, could feel the way she used humour to disguise the true depths of her emotion. Lying down beside her, drawing her close and cuddling her against him, he said nothing, just tried to convey how deeply she touched him, how much he needed her, how all the pain and suffering he had endured in the long years of waiting for her had all been worth it for this one shining moment.

Skye could not speak as the intensity of his emotion washed over her. She just wrapped her arms tightly around him and hugged him back tightly. The only thing she could give back in return was the truth, so she gave it, sharing with Remy her desperate desire to belong, her need for just _one_ person to love her unconditionally, to accept her for everything she was and not seek to change her into something she didn’t want to be.

Remy’s lips were warm and tender as he kissed her brow, his hands steady as he held her reassuringly close, and then he whispered the words which meant more to Skye than any others he might have said.

“I am your home now, _ma belle_. Always.”

_French translations – not an exhaustive list but hopefully the others are pretty obvious:_

_le cafard – the cockroach (Ward)_

_c’est bien – that’s good_

_Tu es magnifique_. _Incroyable – You are magnificent, incredible_

 _Je t’aimerai_ , _jusqu’à la fin du monde – I will love you forever (literally, until the end of the world)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Oh dear. I’d forgotten just how much I love writing that dam’ overly sexy Cajun swamp rat. I hope those of you who’ve already fallen in love with him enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it!**
> 
>  
> 
> **If this is your first experience of reading me writing Remy LeBeau and you’re sitting there fanning yourself right now, you may want to check out my work[ _The Gambler_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2886467/chapters/6442298).**
> 
> **Thank you to everyone who has commented so far letting me know which Crackship you’d like to see smuttily extended! You can ask for another choice if there’s something else you’d really like to see, too. But PLEASE, only ONE request per chapter; those of you who have put in multiple requests in a comment, I’m taking either the first on the list or the one you’ve told me is your favourite. And please, even if you’re commenting as a guest or anon, leave a codename or something for me as I’m trying to keep track of who voted for that – and no, you may _not_ vote for the same ship more than once.**
> 
> **The next one to be written will be Skye/Deadpool/Wolverine. I’m writing strictly in order of when the requests were received, EXCEPT that if I get a seconded request, it gets bumped up a place. The current list (after that one) follows, in order, so if there’s something you’re desperate to see sooner, let me know about it!**


	4. Skye/Deadpool/Logan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Follows on from[ _Chapter 121, We’re The Lucky Ones_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/8068461). **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Requested by dwyn5002, cinti.linda, naru894, Lia, Plant_Murderer + Hiddentrickster.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Damn, I’ve just realised I’m going to have to write _two_ smut scenes for this one. Skye and Wade have sex before Logan shows up. GUYS. How lucky are y’all today?**
> 
> **So the first part of this occurs after Wade has shown Skye his second soulmark and she’s started to laugh.**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/wolverinebw_zpshd9utn0z.jpg.html)

Wade grinned down at Skye as she laughed; taking his hand in hers to look at Logan’s spiky, crude writing. She was beautiful, delicate and slender, her long dark hair a silky tumble down her back he was absolutely desperate to feel against his body. He studied her eyes, so dark a brown it was hard to distinguish pupil from iris. She had long, pitch black eyelashes, but he already knew she wasn’t the kind of girl to flutter them to get her way. Instead she had a direct way of speaking, looking straight at him, _seeing_ him. Her fingers against his skin felt warm and soft, though there was strength in her, he’d seen that.

Skye looked up from the words on Wade’s hand and found him staring at her, his golden-brown eyes intent. “What?” she said a little shyly.

He blinked and shook himself out of it. “You must be hungry. And tired. Why don’t you go have a shower and I’ll get some food for us, and then you can sleep. We’ll try and get in touch with your friends again tomorrow.”

Skye nodded, but she couldn’t look away from his eyes.

“What do you like?” Wade asked softly after a long moment in which they just stared at each other.

Skye blinked. “Excuse me? That’s – a bit – you’re jumping the gun a bit, aren’t you?” Yes, she’d been thinking about climbing him like a tree, peeling off his skintight suit and tasting every inch of him, but…

Wade blinked too, and then his eyebrows shot up. “I meant, _food_. But I like the way I think you’re thinking.” His grin returned full wattage.

“Oh my God.” Skye realised she’d totally misinterpreted him and blushed fire red. She tried to turn away, to hide her embarrassment, but Wade’s arm was firm around her, and he tugged her close, so that she could only bury her face in his chest. His free hand came up to stroke her hair.

“I suppose you are one of my soulmates,” his voice was a laughing murmur above her head, “stands to reason one of the things we might well share is a filthy mind.”

She couldn’t help but start to giggle again, and somehow it was no longer embarrassing, but arousing that they might be having the same thoughts. Shyly she glanced up at him, and he tugged lightly on her hair to tilt her chin up before leaning down. Skye’s eyelids drooped low as his mouth neared hers – and then he kissed the end of her nose.

“If we start now, dinner won’t happen, and I think we’re both going to need the energy,” Wade lifted his head. “So. What do you like – _to eat_? There’s a noodle place just along the street, would that suit you?”

“Sure,” Skye said, smiling up at him. He was quite right. She definitely thought that once they started they wouldn’t stop.

“I’ll go get it while you have a shower.” He let go of her hair, but kept his arm around her waist. “Bathroom’s in here.”

“I’ll need something to wear,” Skye pointed out.

“So you will.” He found her a T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts and left her to wash up. He nearly dropped the bag of takeout when he returned to find her wearing them, her hair a damp curling tangle down her back, reaching up to a high cupboard in the kitchen to fetch down water glasses.

“You’re too tall,” Skye grumped, turning around to set the glasses on the counter, “all your stuff is too high up for me to reach! What?” as she saw the look on his face.

“You look really, really good in my clothes,” Wade said, dry-mouthed. The T-shirt he’d given her was sleeveless, the sleeves ripped out, and through the armhole he’d seen the side curve of her breast as she reached up. Just that one small glimpse had him so hard he could barely stand. And since he was still in his skinsuit – the staff at the noodle shop knew him well and hadn’t batted an eyelid – his arousal was painfully obvious. Skye couldn’t help but notice.

She most certainly did notice. Wow. Being that hard in pants that tight, that really couldn’t be comfortable. She didn’t realise, though, that she was staring at his groin until he coughed and shuffled his feet.

“While you staring at me like that is likely to feature in my best dreams for the rest of my life – are you hungry?”

“Most definitely,” Skye agreed, blushing again.

“For food, you filthy woman.”

“That was what I meant!” she tried to claim, making him laugh again as he came over to the kitchen, walking gingerly, and set the bag on the counter.

“Good.” He gave her a long, direct look. “You’ll need the energy.”

Skye was sure her pulse was visibly hammering in her throat; she could feel the blood rushing through her, all of it apparently directed to her groin where she was starting to bubble between her legs. She just stood numbly in the kitchen as Wade unpacked the food, putting spring rolls on a plate, noodle boxes on the counter. He offered her chopsticks and she took them from his hand, suddenly not sure if she’d be able to choke down a bite.

“Eat,” Wade murmured, gently pressing Skye to sit down on a stool at the breakfast bar. “You need to eat, Skye. Here.” He slid the plate of spring rolls in her direction.

She eventually figured out that she could manage to eat if she didn’t look at him, though she was hyper-aware of him, of the easy way he moved, of the constant gentle prattle he kept up, chattering about some TV show she’d never seen. She thought. She really couldn’t concentrate on his words when all she could see was the muscles bunching in his thighs as he shifted about on the bar stool beside her.

He had _very nice_ thighs, okay? _Anyone_ would be distracted.

“I’m gonna go shower,” Wade said then, standing up, startling Skye so she nearly spilled her drink. “You get some sleep.” He gestured at the bedroom door. “I’ll sleep on the couch, it’s a pull-out.”

Skye didn’t even get a chance to say _Why?_ before the bathroom door closed behind him. “But,” she said feebly instead, feeling suddenly insecure. Did Wade not feel it, the intense hunger that was filling her mind to the exclusion of all else?

A little sadly, she cleared up the remnants of their meal and went to the bedroom, sitting down on the end of the bed and finger-combing out her hair. She’d left the door open and heard Wade come out of the bathroom a few minutes later. He glanced in at her and seemed to hesitate. Skye cocked her head at him curiously. It was warm in the apartment, and yet he was completely covered up, now wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt and tracksuit pants.

“Wade,” she said his name softly and he came and sat down on the bed beside her, keeping a little distance between them.

“Sorry I don’t have a hairbrush for you, or any clothes. I’ll get you some tomorrow.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Skye shook her head, reached out towards him, but he moved away. Seeing the look on her face, though, he hesitated.

“Skye – before anything happens between us, there’s stuff you need to know about me.”

She cried when he told her about what had been done to him. And then, to Wade’s utter shock, she asked to see his scars. Slowly, gently, peeled off his shirt and touched the roughened, scarred skin that marred his leanly muscled form. He gasped when she pressed her lips gently to a patch on his shoulder, her dark brown eyes watching him steadily.

“I have scars too, Wade. Everyone does.”

“Not like these,” he glanced down at his chest, looked away again quickly. It had been a long time since he’d been able to bear looking at himself in the mirror.

“It doesn’t matter,” Skye whispered, moving on to another patch of mottled skin on his upper arm. The touch of her lips on his skin was electrifying and Wade shuddered, his fists clenching. She moved across to his chest, her lips caressing just above his right nipple. “ _It doesn’t matter_.”

“Skye,” he mumbled hoarsely, reaching out to her, one large hand sliding into her hair as she moved across his chest, pressing another kiss to yet another scar.

“I’m going to kiss every single one of these scars,” she murmured softly. “Every. Single. One.” Finishing on his chest, she moved around behind him, going to her knees on the bed, setting to work kissing the scars on his back. And as she did so, she slipped her hands around his waist, sliding inside the stretch waist of his pants.

“I… don’t have scars _there_ ,” Wade gasped out, seeing stars as her fingers closed around his cock.

“Really?” her tone was teasing, and he had the sensation that she was smiling, though he couldn’t see her face as she brushed her lips over a scar on his left shoulderblade. “I could kiss it anyway, I suppose."

“Ungh,” was about all Wade could get out as she twisted lithely around him, settling her arm and shoulder in his lap, tugging his pants down to free his cock before pursing her lips and pressing a dainty kiss to the swollen, deep red tip, looking up at him through her lashes as she did so, before opening her mouth and licking a long, slow stripe from root to tip, swirling her tongue delicately in the slit. “Oh, _fuck_ , Skye,” he groaned, stroking one hand over her bare shoulder and arm, the other caressing her hair.

“That’s the general idea,” Skye smiled before sliding her mouth around him, wrapping her hand around the thick base of his cock.

Wade’s eyes closed and he blew out a low breath between pursed lips as Skye tasted him, learning his shape and thickness, finding the sensitive spots that dragged sounds from him, the rhythm that made his fingers clench gently in her hair.

“Oh sweetheart, you gotta stop,” he grunted out, “or this isn’t going to be much fun for you.”

“You’re so wrong about that,” Skye let him out of her mouth, after a last wicked swirl of her tongue, laid her cheek on his thigh and looked up at him. “But I’m not averse to _mutual_ entertainment.”

“Mm,” Wade slid his arm under her and lifted her, pulling her to sit astride his lap and bringing her face up to his. “Do you realise we haven’t even done this yet? I am an awful person, I let you suck my dick and I didn’t even kiss you yet…”

“Sshh,” Skye smiled and put her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his. The kiss was hungry, sloppy, Wade’s hands suddenly eager as he tugged her shirt up, breaking the kiss for a moment to yank it off over her head, filling his hands with her breasts, thumbs teasing over her nipples. Skye mewled and he put a strong hand in the middle of her back and kissed down her throat, leaning her back against his hold so he could put his mouth on her breasts, licking delicately at her nipples.

Skye ran her fingers into his short-cropped blond hair, gripping hard, encouraging him to be a little firmer, and Wade didn’t need verbal commands to obey, suckling harder and using the edge of his teeth until she moaned and trembled, grinding her hips against him.

“Wade – Wade I need…” Skye babbled.

He made an incoherent sound around her nipple in his mouth, and then let go, lifting his head. “Clothes.”

“Yes, too many,” she agreed, and scrambled off his lap to shove off her boxer shorts as he pulled his tracksuit pants off and reached for the nightstand, yanking the drawer open so hard it fell to the floor.

“Fuck,” he had to reach over and scrabble for a condom, his hands actually shaking so much he had to rip it open with his teeth. Skye helped him roll the condom on, and then scrambled back onto his lap, grabbing onto his shoulders.

“Wait,” Wade protested, “you won’t be _oh fuck_ , you’re really wet,” as she slid slickly down on him. “Oh Jesus. Please don’t let this be just a really good hallucination.”

Skye laughed softly, leaning in so her breasts rubbed against his chest as she flexed her knees and began to ride him. “If it is, I’m in it with you.”

He put his hands under her buttocks, supporting her weight, and as she neared climax and started to lose her rhythm, he took over smoothly, thrusting up into her. Skye sobbed, her nails tearing furrows into his shoulders, flinging her head back and arching her back as orgasm hit.

“That’s it, sweetheart, _damn_ you feel good,” Wade groaned. He kept up his thrusts, fucking Skye through it, and as she started to come down he surprised her by easily standing up, taking two quick steps to the wall and pushing her back against it. Hazily she thought that he must be a great deal stronger than she’d realised, because he’d done that with no apparent effort, and he was holding her up against the wall with no strain at all. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she urged him on, pressing frantic kisses against his throat.

“Please,” she sobbed as he began to move again, hips jerking hard as his rigid cock shuttled in and out, in and out, every time hitting just perfectly on the most sensitive spot inside her.

“You like it hard, don’t you?” Wade almost growled. “That’s good,” when she nodded and made pleading noises. “Because Logan ain’t good at gentle.” He bit at her neck lightly, sucking a hicky into sensitive flesh, pumping a little faster. “Neither am I.”

“Oh God oh God oh God yes, please, Wade, _now_!” it was a squeal of ecstasy from Skye as she started tightening around him again, and he gave one final deep thrust and came _hard_ , jetting deep into Skye with a shout of triumph.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan’s hand was knotted firmly in her hair as he kissed her hungrily, his tongue plunging into her mouth to taste her, and Skye couldn’t help but remember what Wade had said, in the throes of passion, about Logan not being good at gentle. She gave a little shudder of anticipation as Wade started kissing her neck, flicking his tongue over the hicky he’d sucked there the previous night as he fucked her up against the wall.

Logan’s brown eyes were gleaming with a feral light when he lifted his head, and he glanced around quickly. “Couch,” he growled, and Wade moved instantly, lifting Skye and taking her to the couch with him, his hands already tugging at her clothes. She was very far from averse to the idea of getting naked, so she helped, stripping off hastily. It was only once she was completely naked and lying back on the cushions that she realised both men were still fully dressed.

“Do I not get a show too?” Skye pouted, looking at Logan. “I already saw Wade’s rockin’ bod, but I’m betting you’re just as built. And I want to see my words.” Teasingly, she traced her finger over Logan’s spiky script just above her groin. His eyes fastened on the words, and he took a deep, ragged breath.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’,” he muttered, shrugging off his jacket. Then glanced at Wade. “Go give her a good time while I show her what she asked for.”

Wade grinned, immediately going to his knees before the couch. “Oh yeah. I didn’t get a taste yet.” He put both hand on Skye’s knees, looking a question at her with his eyebrows raised.

“Yes, Wade, show me why your mouth is so special, then,” Skye agreed, parting her legs to let him move between them. His hands tugged on her hips, positioning her at the edge of the couch, and Skye grabbed for a cushion to tuck behind her back, the better to see him with. Logan stood towering over them both, grinning as Wade leaned in, nuzzling lightly before diving in.

“Oh, Jesus,” Skye was panting within a scant few seconds, realising that Logan was exactly right. What Wade could do with his mouth more than made up for how much he talked with it. He wasn’t quiet even now, slurping and humming in his throat, sending delicious vibrations through her whole body as he worked her clit.

“That’s it,” Logan caressed Wade’s head. “Get her nice and wet. All over. She’ll need it for when we both fuck her.” His eyes were on Skye’s, checking whether she was on board with that idea, his grin widening when she groaned frantically, her hips jerking.

Logan pulled off the unbuttoned denim shirt he’d been wearing under his leather jacket, moving slowly, letting Skye get a good look at the rippling muscles of his arms and shoulders. The white wife-beater came next, pulled up and over his head, and Skye moaned, her eyes fixed on the thickly muscled torso he revealed. He was heavier in build than Wade, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on either of them.

Next came Logan’s belt, removed slowly – and then lashed down once lightly on Wade’s back, making the blond moan and redouble his attentions to Skye’s pussy, adding fingers to his tongue, stroking them through her slick and sliding gently downwards to press at her ass. As Logan’s zipper rasped down, the tip of Wade’s finger breached the tight ring of muscle and Skye came, absolutely helpless against his expert touch.

“Get undressed,” she vaguely heard Logan order, and then large, powerful hands were on her, cupping her breasts, pinching sharply at her nipples, making her cry out again and buck up against him.

Wade stared at Logan as he bent over Skye, fondling her breasts, gazing down at her worshipfully. He couldn’t look away, his two soulmates so utterly beautiful together, Logan looming massive above Skye’s slender form. At least until Logan glared at him and snapped “Go get supplies, Wade, or I’ll make you wait your turn.”

Wade bolted for the bedroom, returning with condoms and lube, to find Logan sitting on the couch with Skye lying back against him, her head against his shoulder, legs spread wide over Logan’s thickly muscled thighs, his thick fingers burrowing between her thighs.

“Oh, fuck,” Wade almost dropped his handful. “Oh God. That is – that is the most gorgeous sight. Shit, Logan.”

“Fucking stunning, ain’t she?” Logan growled. “So responsive. Fucking soaking. Don’t think we’ll need that lube, she’s opening up beautifully for you.”

Wade could barely stand. So he didn’t, sinking to his knees, gazing ravenously at Logan’s hand, at the broad thumb shoved deep in Skye’s vagina as his fingers worked in her ass. For once he was lost for words and just watched in silent awe as Skye came again on Logan’s hand, her hair whipping against his chest as her head thrashed from side to side and high mewling sounds spilled from her lips.

Skye was utterly lost as Logan’s thick fingers scissored her ass open, the tip of his thumb flicking repeatedly against her G-spot. She didn’t even notice Wade coming to kneel back down before her until his tongue flicked against her clit again.

Incoherent with ecstasy, she thrashed between them, strong hands holding her, caressing her, pinching at her nipples, working deep inside her body, Logan sucking more hickeys into her neck as Wade’s clever tongue played with her clit. “Please,” she managed to choke out as she came down from yet another orgasm, “please, please, please.”

“Sit down, Wade,” Logan ordered gruffly, and Wade obeyed instantly, moving to the end seat of the couch and sitting back, opening a condom and rolling it on, pumping a palmful of lube and slicking himself up. He swallowed hungrily as Logan lifted Skye easily, transferring her to Wade’s lap, and he saw his words on the back of her shoulder.

“She’s beautiful there with you,” Logan said softly, looking down at the pair of them, at Skye’s legs splayed open over Wade’s, the blond’s cock jutting up between her thighs. Grinning, he leaned in over Skye’s shoulder to kiss Wade, his hand wrapping around Wade’s cock for a few quick pumps.

“Jesus, Logan, not necessary,” Wade groaned, but he kissed his soulmate back, smiled up at him.

“Slip on in there,” Logan murmured, “I’ll keep her happy.” Kneeling in front of the couch, he leaned in to kiss Skye’s breasts, his fingers tracing his words on her stomach gently before slipping lower to play with her clit again as Wade lifted her hips.

Skye let out a choked little cry as the tip of Wade’s cock breached her ass, the intrusion not quite painful. He moved gently, carefully, lifting and lowering her ass to slip a little deeper with each movement.

“ _So_ tight,” Wade groaned in Skye’s ear. She was panting, trying to relax into the penetration, Logan’s rough-tipped fingers playing over her clit sending little shocks of pleasure through her. Wade moved a little deeper again and suddenly the muscle relaxed and he was sliding to the hilt with a needy groan. Skye sobbed his name, but then Logan was kissing her suddenly, his hands holding her still.

“Wait,” he gritted, “don’t you fucking dare come now. Not until I’m inside you too.” Leaning back, he snatched up the other condom, rolled it on hastily.

“Hurry the fuck up, Logan,” Wade’s voice was strained. “Can’t hold out long. Feels too good. So fucking tight, so hot.” His hands had left Skye’s hips, wandered up to her breasts, where he was rolling her nipples between finger and thumb, pinching hard, making Skye writhe and moan against him.

“ _Fuck_ , that’s hot.” Logan stood and leaned in, bending his knees to kneel between Wade’s parted legs. Skye was spread wide open for him, her hands fluttering to land on his shoulders as he pressed the tip of his cock to her pink, wetly shining entrance. “You ready, darlin’?” he growled softly, pressing in a little way.

“Please,” she whimpered hoarsely, looking up at him from teary eyes. “Please, Logan, need it so much. Need you both so much. “

“We’re yours,” he rumbled softly, his eyes on hers, “always yours.” He leaned in as he spoke, sliding slowly, carefully into Skye, aware that she would already be feeling full with Wade in her ass. She panted, breathing fast as he slid deep, her eyes closing.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Wade asked as Logan bottomed out, groaning low in his chest.

“Full,” Skye panted, her fingers clenching on Logan’s shoulders, “oh God, so full – _move_ , please, _please_ move!”

There were matching hungry snarls from both men in answer, and then they were moving, alternating their thrusts, Logan gripping her hips firmly, Wade still playing with her breasts. They were both ridiculously strong, she could tell, neither showing any signs of strain – or not to their muscles, anyway, though they were both making noises, fierce, hungry groans and growls.

It wasn’t enough. And then Skye realised what was missing. Tightening her grip on Logan’s shoulders, she pulled herself up towards him – and on his next thrust, his stomach met hers and they both cried out.

“Yes,” Wade growled, and leaned forward too, turning his head and pressing his cheek to Skye’s shoulder, letting go of her breast and reaching around Logan to put the palm of his right hand to Logan’s back.

The bond exploded into being between the three of them as Wade made the final connection, the tenuous thread Wade and Logan had shared for decades suddenly thick and near-tangible, Skye’s presence filling in the heart of the bond, forging an invisible, unbreakable chain.

Three voices lifted in cries of ecstasy, three bodies writhed against each other, the two men buried fully inside Skye and coming as one even as she screamed her own release. At last, she collapsed back against Wade, her whole body going limp and relaxed.

Logan leaned in to kiss her, his lips gentle and tender on hers, before he turned his head and kissed Wade just as tenderly. Wade smiled back at him wearily, arms clasped around both his soulmates.

Skye’s small hand caressed Logan’s tufted hair, her eyes glazed with pleasure as he eased slowly out of her and then lifted her carefully off Wade. Gently lifting her in his arms, Logan carried Skye through to the bedroom and laid her down on the bed, curling protectively around her. Wade was only a moment behind, snuggling in on her other side, enveloping Skye in a man-sandwich of warm, heavy muscle.

Eyes closed, utterly satiated and relaxed, savouring the incredible sensations of _warmth_ and _safety_ , both physically and mentally from the new bond, Skye smiled vaguely at the ceiling.

“Jemma is _not_ going to believe me when I tell her about this.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jemma would probably FAINT if you told her about that, Skye.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Hope that was good for you too – next up will be Bucky/Beth, as requested by MCUFan34, darklou91 + Ellibell. Don’t forget that you can vote for a different Crackship you’d like to see get the smut treatment each chapter… the current list (in order to be written) is as follows…**


	5. Bucky/Beth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Follows on from[ _Chapter 130, A Really Long Story_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/8358766) **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Requested by MCUFan34, darklou91 + Ellibell.**
> 
>  
> 
> **  
> _(Note: MCU Beth doesn’t have a surname, but in the Beth/Rumlow Short I gave her the surname Jackson, so I’m keeping it.)_  
>  **

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/whoah%20bucky_zpsgv6byqty.jpg.html)

“Everything’s going to be all right,” Bucky murmured softly in Beth’s ear, and she took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure.

And gagged.

“Oh my God, you _stink_!”

“Homeless hobo…” he said with a grin, releasing her and stepping back. “Like you said.”

“I want a shower.” Beth tried to wrap herself in the familiar, everyday aspects of bodily needs. “And so do you. About three showers, probably. I want to go home.”

“Beth,” he reached towards her, let his hand drop. “You can’t go back to your apartment.”

“Why not? You dealt with the problem, didn’t you?” her brow furrowed.

“Yes, tonight’s problem. But – we also made it worse. Bad enough that HYDRA realised you were close enough to Steve to be used against him. Now they know you’re important enough for the Avengers to Assemble for you. And at least a couple of the guys we fought tonight were wearing cameras, which means their bosses now know _I_ went out to fight for you too.” Bucky shook his head. “Clint and Nat are checking your apartment now. HYDRA had two men inside waiting for you as well, they must have gotten there before I did.”

In the flight-induced rush of adrenaline, Beth hadn’t really thought about it, but now that she did, she asked in a small voice; 

“What would they have done to me?”

“Don’t!” Bucky said sharply, unable to deal with the thought. “Don’t think about that, Beth. They _didn’t_ get you. I wouldn’t have let them touch you, I’ll never let them _near_ you.” This time he did touch her, his hand gentle against her cheek. “I’ll never let anybody hurt you,” he said, his voice a husky whisper.

They stood staring at each other in silence for a long moment, and then Bucky dropped his hand. “Stevie said somethin’ about a guest room. Let’s go check it out, get cleaned up.” He rubbed ruefully at his bearded chin. “There might even be a razor there.”

Beth smiled, and took the hand he offered, leading her out of the safe room and to the waiting elevator. There were no buttons – she wouldn’t have known what floor to press anyway – so she cleared her throat. “JARVIS?” she said nervously.

“Yes, Miss Jackson,” the urbane voice of the AI replied immediately, “may I convey you to the guest suite prepared for you and Mr Barnes?”

 _Suite_ sounded good. Like there were probably at least two bedrooms. Beth nodded, wondered if she should speak aloud, but the elevator doors were sliding soundlessly closed.

“Please turn right on exiting the elevator,” JARVIS informed then when the doors opened again, “and proceed along the corridor until you find an open door.”

Bucky instinctively pushed Beth behind him, moving to check the room despite her dry remark of;

“I seriously don’t think there’s going to be anyone waiting to ambush us in _Avengers Tower_ , Bucky!”

There was no ambush – but there was a dark-haired woman there, placing two piles of folded clothes on the couch. Spotting Bucky coming in, his stance wary, hand inside his hoodie, she lifted her hands, spreading them out to her side and turning around slowly, her form-fitting clothes showing that she wasn’t armed.

“I’m Maria Hill, Barnes. I used to be SHIELD and I work for Stark now. I was just dropping off some clean clothes and stuff for you and Beth. Hi, Beth,” she said with a smile and a nod as Beth peeped around the doorframe behind Bucky.

“Oh, hello!” the beautiful brunette had come for coffee with Steve a couple of times. “I’ve seen her with Steve, Bucky,” Beth reassured, reaching to put a hand on his arm. His left arm, which felt strangely hard under his hoodie. She looked at his hand, puzzled, but he was wearing a leather glove on it. He pulled away, nodded shortly at Maria.

The other woman left, with a quiet murmur of  “Just ask JARVIS if you need anything else,” and Bucky secured the doors before going quickly around the rest of the suite. There were two bedrooms, each with an ensuite bathroom, plus the shared living room and kitchen.

Everything looked very expensive, Beth couldn’t help but think, looking around. Even the clothes Maria had left weren’t cheap, Juicy Couture sweats for her and a Polo Ralph Lauren polo and jeans for Bucky. Gathering her pile, she headed for the bedroom she’d picked out – they were both the same.

“Good night, Beth,” Bucky said quietly behind her. She paused, glanced over her shoulder – but the other bedroom door had already closed.

She’d kind of thought that they might talk some more once they’d both cleaned up and changed. It was a long day, she should be exhausted, but she suspected it would be a long time before the adrenaline charge in her system faded enough for her to sleep. With a sigh, Beth closed her bedroom door too.

Stocked with enough luxury products to launch a beauty salon, it was the nicest bathroom she’d ever been in. Eyeing the huge tub, Beth shrugged mentally. _What the hell_. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a proper bath, the shower stall in her apartment wasn’t even big enough for her to wash her hair without bashing her elbows. She turned the faucet, smiling as a steaming river of water began pouring into the tub, investigated the box of assorted bath bombs on a shelf by the tub before selecting one and tossing it in.

She luxuriated in the tub for a long time, feeling the hot water soak away stiff muscles, before finally climbing reluctantly out and drying herself. Feeling suddenly hungry, she decided to go and investigate if there was anything in the fridge. Tugging on the sweats, she headed back to the living room.

And froze, two steps outside her bedroom door. Because Bucky was there, in the kitchen, obviously with the same idea as she’d had, because he was just opening the fridge door.

He was wearing only the jeans Maria had left for him, clinging lovingly to his ass and powerful thighs, but Beth barely noticed them, her eyes landing instantly on the _metal arm_ , the incredibly complex and obviously _completely functional_ metal arm with a red star painted on the shoulder of the darkly gleaming metal. It seemed to be part of his body, grafted on, ridged white scarring where it met flesh speaking silently of trauma and horrible pain.

“Beth,” Bucky said awkwardly, cursing himself for not putting his hoodie and glove back on, but he’d been hot after his shower, and the apartment felt warm too. He hadn’t wanted her to see this yet. Maybe not ever. It was hideous, ghastly…

“Oh, _Bucky_ ,” Beth was crossing the room to him swiftly, her fingers coming up to ghost lightly over his scarred chest. “My Bucky, my poor darling – what did they _do_ to you?” Her huge blue eyes swam with tears as she looked up at him, and once again Bucky found himself utterly helpless against her.

“It’s all right, Beth,” he said huskily. “It was a long time ago. I lost my left arm in a fall from a train, I should have died, don’t know how I survived long enough for HYDRA to find me. But I’ve had this arm for a long, long time, got used to it – in some ways it’s better than the original, stronger. It’s been improved over the years, I even have feeling in it, though it’s different to my real hand.”

“Can I – touch?” she asked shyly, her fingers hovering near his biceps.

“Sure.” The touch receptors in the arm were mainly on the fingers and hand, but there were a few scattered around his arm, and her delicate fingers brushed directly over one as she touched his arm.

No one but maintenance techs had ever touched Bucky’s arm, and their touch was firm, impersonal, if not actually rough because it was a _machine_ , didn’t need gentleness. Beth touched him as though she was afraid the vibranium alloy would shatter beneath her fingers, and to Bucky it felt like crackling fire racing along his nerves. He shuddered, his other arm moving instinctively to wrap around Beth, gather her close to him.

“I’m sorry!” Beth gasped, pulling her hand back as he shuddered beneath her touch.

“Don’t – it feels _good_ , Beth, no one ever touched me like that,” his blue eyes blazed as he looked down at her, pupils blown wide.

He’d shaved clean, his longish hair damp and tucked behind his ears, leaving the clean-cut beauty of his face entirely exposed, and in that face Beth could see the handsome young soldier from the pictures she’d seen, though he was leaner now, his cheeks a little hollowed, only emphasising the sharp lines of his spectacular cheekbones. Wonderingly she reached up and touched his face, tracing her fingers down his jaw.

“Beth,” he said hoarsely, and her eyes fastened on his mouth, plush pink lips, the most succulent mouth she’d ever seen on a man. Unconsciously she licked her own lips, and Bucky, far too long denied any kind of touch that wasn’t brutality, lost his mind.

He was kissing her, his mouth hot and hungry over hers, his tongue flicking her lips apart and playing with hers, leaning into her and bending her back over his arm. Beth moaned with pleasure as he plundered her mouth, tasting, licking and sucking at her lower lip.

She was too small, a good six inches shorter than he was, and Bucky didn’t think twice – he barely thought once – before lifting her hips and setting her on the kitchen counter, placing her at a much more convenient height. Beth parted her knees and bracketed his hips, her hands around his neck pulling him in for more kisses, and Bucky was only too happy to oblige.

Fingers soft as the brush of a butterfly’s wing traced over his shoulders, down his chest, along both arms, treating them both to equal attention, her gentleness maddening Bucky, tearing needy whimpers from his throat as he feasted greedily on her mouth.

He was aroused, very much so, hard as he ground against her through their clothes, and the only thing Beth could think about was having him inside her. “Please,” she whimpered as he abandoned her mouth for a moment to kiss down her neck. “Bucky, please – I want you.”

“We should – wait,” he tried to mumble, unable to stop tasting her neck. She tasted of strawberries and cream, utterly, utterly delicious.

“Don’t wanna wait,” Beth moaned, tipping her head back so that Bucky had greater access to her throat. He made a frantic noise and suckled on her neck until she was boneless against him, trying to pull him closer with her legs, her breasts aching with the need to be touched. “ _Please_ , Bucky.”

“I’m never going to be able to say no to you on anything,” he groaned, but his hand came up, caught the zipper of her hoodie and drew it down gently, pushing it back off her shoulders until her breasts were exposed to his ravenous gaze. “Oh God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, staring at milky pale breasts topped with plump, peaked rosy nipples. “So beautiful, Beth.” He lifted his metal hand without even thinking about it, palmed one breast and flicked his thumb over her nipple.

Shocked at how good the cool metal felt, Beth cried out with pleasure, her nails digging into Bucky’s shoulders, squeaking over the metal one. “Yes, Bucky, ahhh!”

He’d been about to jerk back, horrified that he’d lost himself so far as to touch her with that hand, until he realised that she was very clearly enjoying it. Shocked for a moment, he looked down at her breast in his hand, at the hard little bud of her nipple under his thumb – and bent to suck it into his mouth.

“Oh, yeah, oh, _unnnnn_!” Beth made the most delightful noises as he suckled her breast, tonguing her nipple harder still. Her fingers ran into his hair, gripping, holding him close, urging him on, not that Bucky needed any urging. He caught her nipple in his teeth and tugged gently, smiling as she sobbed and writhed against him. Letting go and pulling back, he straightened up.

“Let me take you to bed.”

“No!” Beth cried out, “no, no, right here, Bucky, _now_ , I can’t wait, _please_!” and she grabbed at the waist of his jeans, popping the button and tugging the zip down, her slender hand gliding inside to wrap around his cock.

Bucky choked out something she didn’t understand – was he speaking _Russian_? – and actually trembled, his eyes closing, full pink lips parted and wet. Beth gazed at him, incredulous that this beautiful, magnificent man was _hers_.

“ _Babochka moya_ ,” he groaned, “stop, Beth, stop. Too long.”

“Yes,” she agreed deliriously, “you’re long.”

His hand covered hers, lifted it gently away. “Not what I meant.” Wrapping his arm around her waist, he lifted her easily, his other hand tugging her sweatsuit pants down. When he stepped back, Beth kicked out of them, shrugged her hoodie the rest of the way off and flung it aside. Put her hands on the counter and leaned back, looking shyly up at him through her lashes. She had a good body, she knew it, slim and quite fit from hard work and walking, her breasts not too full but firm and tip-tilted.

“You are _glorious_ ,” Bucky murmured, filling his eyes with her, and then to her surprise he dropped to his knees, his hands on her hips tugging her right to the edge of the counter. “Let me taste you,” he pressed kisses against her knees, and she slid them apart easily, letting him pull them over his shoulders, hearing his bionic arm click and whine as he moved it, both his hands stroking the outside of her thighs as he slowly kissed and licked up the inside, taking his time.

“You’re a _tease_ ,” Beth whined.

Bucky laughed quietly, nipping at the inside of her thigh, finding a tiny mole and playing with it with his tongue until she pressed her heels hard into his back. And then he moved on up, his eyes widening as he realised she was waxed completely bare. He’d never seen that before – but _damn_ , he liked it a _lot_ , her pussy completely exposed to his gaze, deep pink and shining slickly with arousal. His nostrils flared as he scented her, moaning low as he thought about tasting her, wondering if she would taste as good as she smelled. He savoured the anticipation for a moment longer before pressing one last gentle kiss to her inner thigh – and licking a long, rough stripe up from her hole to her clit.

Beth had to bite her lip to keep from screaming the place down as Bucky repeated the action, two, three, four times more, making pleased noises in his throat. And then he seemed to settle in, sliding his tongue as far as it would go inside her while his teeth and upper lip worried gently at her clit.

“Oh God Bucky I’m gonna come if you keep that up,” Beth panted, her nails scrabbling uselessly at the countertop.

“Good,” was all he said before slurping over her clit again and bringing his flesh hand round to slide two long, dextrous fingers into her core.

Beth wailed his name again as he sped up the movements of his tongue, thrusting his fingers quickly inside her, adding a third as she opened up for him. And then she was clenching around him, juices dribbling down his fingers, the noises she made as she came for him the sweetest sounds Bucky had ever heard. He groaned low, lapping thirstily, drinking her down, withdrawing his fingers gently. Her eyes closed, head thrown back, golden hair tumbling around her shoulders, Beth was utterly beautiful to him.

“So lovely, _babochka moya_ ,” he muttered, pulling back to look at her, lifting his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean. “Are you protected, Beth?”

Almost insensible with pleasure, it took her a moment to realise what he meant. “Yes. IUD.”

He looked blank, and she realised he had no idea what that meant. “Yes. Just, yes, _please_ , fuck me, Bucky, do it _now_.”

He shoved his jeans down, standing up and kicking out of them frantically. Perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, she was at the perfect height for him to slide right on in, his metal hand settling on her ass to tilt her hips up towards him. She moaned as he slid slickly deep, wrapping her slim, toned legs around his waist, running her hands over his shoulders.

“Bucky,” Beth whispered, gazing into his eyes, and he leaned in and kissed her, his human hand wrapping around her back and running through her thick golden hair.

“You feel amazing,” he mumbled against her lips. “So good, Beth. Been too long for me.”

“It’s okay,” she reassured, realising what he meant. “It’s all right, Bucky, we’ve got our whole lives to get it right. Take what you need, I’m good…”

She was too good for him. Sweet, unselfish, beautiful, untouched by the evils that had shaped and built him. He should let her go, should push her away and never see her again.

Only, that was unthinkable. He couldn’t leave her, because he knew only too well that the moment she was out of his sight he wouldn’t be able to deal with the fear that he might never see her again. He was hers, body and soul, absolutely, for all time. So he drew, a small amount, on the discipline he’d used as HYDRA’s Asset. Wrapped a little of the bitter cold around him, just enough to draw back from the brink. Just enough that he might hold out long enough to bring Beth to her pleasure. His Beth.

“ _Babochka moya_ ,” he whispered, pressing kisses to her cheeks, her brow, her lips. “ _Ya tvoy, navechno_.”

Beth was whimpering and shifting against him, full but hungry for more stimulation. “Please,” she gasped, scratching at his shoulders, her legs wrapped around him jerking, trying to urge him to move. “Please, Bucky!”

“That’s it,” he told her, starting to rock his hips, holding her steady with his hand on her ass, letting go of her hair and sliding the other hand down between them, catching her clit between index and middle fingers and scissoring swiftly around it.

She was a screamer, throwing her head back and yelling out her pleasure as Bucky thrust faster and harder, and he absolutely loved it, urging her on with low growls and groans of his own until finally he felt her begin to tremor around him, sleek muscles clenching, her cries becoming one long, low wail.

“ _Beth_ ,” he could only get out her name as he let go of his iron control, driving himself deep one last time, back bowing as he emptied himself in her welcoming depths.

“Oh God Bucky, so good, so good,” she sobbed, clinging to him, pressing her sweaty forehead to his shoulder, uncaring that it was cold, unyielding metal.

Out in the corridor, Steve, who’d been about to knock on the door, hoping to talk with Bucky, retreated hastily, his cheeks flaming. He’d heard Beth’s screams as he came out of the elevator, had thought for a moment Bucky might be attacking her. But no. Definitely not screams of pain or terror. _Tomorrow. They’d talk tomorrow_. Though he’d probably check with JARVIS first if it was safe to approach the apartment.

Bucky and Beth clung to each other, still shuddering with little aftershocks of pleasure, Bucky stroking her hair with gentle fingers until she finally relaxed against him. Easing back, he slipped from her with a slight grunt, kissing her as she did so. She smiled at him when he leaned back, an absolutely breathtaking smile, and for the first time in more years than he could remember Bucky smiled freely in return. He lifted her gently down from the counter, held her close against him for a moment as she wobbled on shaky legs.

“I’m okay. Just a bit – stunned,” Beth struggled to find the words. “I – need the bathroom.” She could feel his seed wetly trickling down her thighs.

Bucky let her go, stooping to pick up discarded clothes. She tottered towards her room, her knees still rubbery, and he couldn’t resist lifting his head to look at the back view as she walked away. He saw her soulmark, on the back of her right thigh, and considering that his was on the _front_ of his right thigh – yeah, that was a brain-frying thought right there. It wasn’t that which made a grin come to his face, though.

It was the tattoo on the upper curve of her pert left buttock. A delicately drawn, brightly coloured butterfly.

 

**_Babochka moya_ – my butterfly **

**_Ya tvoy, navechno_ – I am yours, forever**

**(Thank you to LenaAzarova for correcting my Google Translate Russian)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next on my list to write is Pyro/Iceman/Skye, as requested by sillysammy2297, thedarkqueenofangels, Yasmania + EllaC. After that, the list (in current order) is as follows. Remember, you can vote for ONE more choice per chapter, WITH a name or codename of some sort attached to your vote so I can record who has voted for what, and you can’t vote for the same one twice. Ships get put on the list in order the request is received, and then will jump one place up the list per extra vote, so if you want to see something sooner, let me know!**


	6. Pyro/Iceman/Skye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Follows on from[ _Chapter 139, Boss Lady_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/8869702).**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Requested by sillysammy2297, thedarkqueenofangels, Yasmania + EllaC.**
> 
>  
> 
> _(Note – this occurs some time after the finishing events of S2, and SHIELD have built a new Bus for Skye’s team to use. It’s not as big as the old Globemaster, more like an oversized quinjet, but it still has a vehicle hangar that can fit Lola or an SUV)._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/iceman%208_zpsyypcs558.jpg.html)

“So,” John murmured in Skye’s ear, “where’s that bed gonna be?”

She took a deep breath, looked up at him. “You’re both joining us?”

“Of course,” Bobby said quietly behind her. “We planned on it anyway, as long as we decided you guys had good intentions and we could get along with you.”

“Well – then maybe you’d better come back to base with us. Your bikes will fit on the Bus.”

“I think we’d rather ride the bikes than ride in a bus,” John said sardonically. Skye smiled.

“You might change your mind when you see it.”

“Hmm.” Bobby let go of her, moved back, but John stayed where he was, looking down at Skye. “Will you ride with me?” he asked quietly, and Skye realised that for all his brash, confident air, he was insecure, quite possibly shy.

“I would love to,” she said honestly, because _hot damn_ the thought of clinging to him while he powered that motorbike down the freeway was sexy as all get out, “but I can’t. Coulson only has one hand and it takes two to drive Lola. Another time, though? Please?”

Her earnest expression made him smile, and he stroked warm fingers gently along her jawline before nodding. “That’s a date, gorgeous.”

“Come on, you two,” Bobby called from by the door. “Let’s get out of this dump.”

“Gotcha, mate,” John replied, but instead of moving away, he put his arm around Skye, his hand settling lightly at the small of her back.

“Oho, look at this!” Bobby stepped out of the building just ahead of them, spotted Lola. “Very nice, sir!” he said to Phil, who had occupied himself polishing Lola’s wing mirrors.

“Don’t touch Lola,” Skye said hurriedly, and Bobby glanced over and grinned at her.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. You don’t touch a classy lady like this without express permission.” He was walking around the Corvette, gazing admiringly. “Isn’t she magnificent!”

Phil smiled at Bobby’s comment. “Thank you. I think so too. I helped my father rebuild her; been adding improvements ever since.” He glanced at Skye, at John’s arm still around her, flickered an eyebrow at her in query.

“They’re coming with us,” Skye said, and was grateful when Phil just nodded, accepting it without comment.

“Figured. I told Mike to prep the Bus to carry their bikes too.”

“Still not sure about this bus,” John muttered.

Skye smiled, turned to face him. “Trust me?”

For a moment his expression was dark, and then he took a deep breath, his brow clearing. “Yes. I gotta start somewhere besides Bobby. Yes, I’ll trust you, boss lady.”

She reached up to kiss him again for that, interrupted by Phil clearing his throat loudly behind her. Blushing a little, she pulled free of John’s hold. “Come on. Let’s get going.”

She couldn’t help watching as the two men straddled their bikes, starting the engines with a dual low roar, staring with fascination until Phil nudged her. Then she blushed hotly and started Lola with shaking fingers.

“Eyes on the road, Skye,” Phil said, and then under his breath, “good thing they’ll be riding behind us not in front of us, or you’d be staring at their asses all the way.”

“Very nice asses they are too, thanks very much,” Skye said, and Phil yelped.

“Damn it, Skye, I can’t even put both hands over my ears any more! I don’t want to know!”

She grinned and pulled Lola out of the old parking lot onto the road.

They’d left the Bus about five miles away, parked in stealth mode on another abandoned lot just off the road. John and Bobby were both visibly impressed when the air shimmered and the plane appeared, and even more so by its part-cyborg pilot.

“You boys better treat Skye right,” Mike told them grimly, “or we’ll be havin’ _words_.”

“I see why you and Phil came as the negotiators and not him,” Bobby said dryly as Deathlok headed towards the cockpit, leaving him and John to secure their bikes beside Lola.

“Don’t mind him, he’s a teddy bear under all that gruff and bionic body parts,” Skye grinned, “he’s just a little bit protective of me.”

“I’m good with that,” Bobby said quietly, straightening up after securing the last strap on his bike. “The more people looking out for my girl, the better.”

She couldn’t look away from his bright blue eyes as he moved closer. He was a little shorter than John, only had two or three inches over Skye, and all she had to do was lift her chin a little as he ducked his face and their mouths met perfectly.

“You mean _our_ girl,” John’s voice said in a low murmur as he moved in behind Skye, strong arms curving around her, pushing her harder up against Bobby. He was _very_ happy to be there, Skye could feel his arousal against her ass through his leather motorbike pants. She ground back against him even as her tongue duelled with Bobby’s and his hands came up to cup her breasts.

“Wheels up in sixty seconds,” Mike’s voice crackled through a speaker, “strap in.”

Skye groaned into Bobby’s mouth with frustration, and he pulled back, smiling broadly at her. “Guess we’ll have to save it for later?”

“Yes. You two go sit over there,” she pointed to the two jump seats on one side of the small hangar, “because if either of you sit with me I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself.”

Phil had gone to keep Mike company in the cockpit, so they were quite alone. Skye didn’t get why Bobby and John both started laughing, though. She sat down and belted herself in, frowning across the space at them. “What’s so funny?”

“You got us both all wound up, darlin’, but I think you’ve failed to take into account that we can’t keep our hands off _each other_ ,” John said, and Skye’s mouth fell open as he reached across into Bobby’s lap and unzipped his fly. Bobby relaxed shamelessly into John’s touch, leaning his head on the back of the seat and letting out a little moan as John took his cock out and stroked it.

Skye’s hands gripped the edges of her seat and she stared, unable even to blink, as Bobby turned his head and John leaned in to kiss him hungrily. They were deliberately sloppy, all tongue, making a show of it, she quite realised that, but oh dear God _what a show_. She found herself rubbing on the seat, trying to get some friction, her breath coming quick and choppy, as she watched John jerk Bobby off with quick, expert strokes.

“ _Pyro_ ,” Bobby groaned out, and then he was coming in thick white spurts into John’s hand, John kissing him again, this time slow and tender.

“That’s it, Ice.” John grinned at his soulmate, and since the plane had levelled out, unhooked his harness and grabbed some paper towels from a dispenser on the wall to wipe his hand.

Bobby tucked himself back into his pants with a sigh of satisfaction, glanced across at Skye. “Our girl’s lookin’ all frustrated, love.”

“Yeah?” John discarded the paper towels into the garbage, turned to look at Skye. “Yeah, she looks all flushed and needy, huh?” He glanced down at Bobby, grinned. “I think she likes to watch.”

“I think so too,” Bobby agreed. Cocked his head. “D’you think she’d like to watch me blow you?”

Skye let out a squeak.

“I’d take that as a yes, wouldn’t you?” John said with a grin. And then he reached up and caught hold of a bracket attached to the ceiling. Bobby unclipped his harness and went to his knees at John’s feet, unfastening his belt and leather motorcycle pants and peeling them down to his knees along with the boxers he had on beneath. With John’s arms up, his body stretched, his jacket and shirt hitched up and gave Skye a great view of sleekly muscled abs and a very handsome cock, jutting flushed and proud.

Bobby didn’t even hesitate. Just opened his mouth and went down on John, taking him deep on the first pass.

“Ah, _shit_ , Ice,” John groaned, unable to help from jerking his hips, but Bobby took it with no sign of discomfort. “Ahhhh.” John’s eyes closed for a moment, and then he opened them, looked at Skye as Bobby began to bob his head in long, swift strokes. “He’s – good. Good with that m-mouth. Ahhhh. You know what, when we find a bed, we’re gonna lay you down and – _ahhh_ – take turns eating you out.”

Skye’s brain was utterly fried. She could only sit there frozen and _stare_ , making tiny whimpering noises, as John flung his head back and cried out, whole body jerking as he spasmed.

Bobby swallowed and then pulled back slowly, deliberately, licking his soulmate clean and re-dressing him gently as John quivered, his fingers white as he gripped onto the bracket. Then Bobby stood and embraced John, hugging him close, and John let go of the bracket and hung onto Bobby instead.

“Thank you, my love,” he murmured softly.

“Any time,” Bobby smiled back at him, and then they both turned to Skye with identical hungry expressions and took a step towards her in unison.

Phil knocked on the door and opened it at just that moment. “Hey guys. Come on forward, the centre compartment’s much more comfortable.”

For one flaming moment Skye absolutely hated Coulson.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John and Bobby both seemed intent on tormenting her. The new Bus wasn’t as plushly equipped as the old one had been – SHIELD’s budget no longer ran to billions – but it was very comfortable, and they’d immediately edged her into the middle on the corner couch, the table disguising the fact that they each had a hand on her thigh as they chatted, apparently quite unconcernedly, with Coulson.

Well, _they’d_ both already got off, Skye supposed, trying frantically not to wriggle too much. She was already too quiet and probably very flushed, and she had the awful feeling that Coulson knew exactly what was going on. She was sure of it when, immediately after they landed, Phil suggested, straight-faced, that she should show her soulmates where to put their belongings.

“There’s a large vacant suite in the east accommodation corridor,” he suggested. “That might suit.”

Skye was blushing again, turning away to hide her face while mumbling a hasty thanks. She knew which suite he meant, she’d asked rather hopefully if she could bag it when she first came to the Playground and Phil had refused, telling her that it was meant for married couples’ quarters. It was directly across the hall from her own room, too.

“And I don’t believe there’s anything in particular we would need any of you for in the next couple of days,” Phil added as John and Bobby wheeled their bikes down the ramp. “We can worry about lanyards later.”

Skye gave him an impulsive hug, and he whispered in her ear “Just be careful, Skye, all right?”

She nodded and impulsively kissed his cheek, making Phil chuckle. “Thanks, Dad,” she mumbled.

“Be glad I’m not really your father, or I probably wouldn’t be nearly so sanguine about the disgraceful things I’m sure the three of you will be doing to each other as soon as you get in that room.” Phil handed her a plastic carrier bag. “Here. I don’t want to know why Morse thinks these are essential first aid supplies for this airplane, but I’m sure you can make use of them.”

Peeking in the bag, Skye spied a large box of condoms and a bottle of lube. Flushing even redder, she fled Phil’s chuckles.

John and Bobby had both pulled knapsacks from their bike panniers, shouldered them now and turned to her as she came hurrying up.

“You look real flushed, Skye,” Bobby said with concern, before grinning. “Can I cool you down?” He put his hands to her cheeks, and she squeaked slightly with shock as her skin chilled instantly.

“That’s a neat trick,” she admitted.

John grinned, his arm sliding around her waist again. “We’re really looking forward to playing with what our powers can do for you, sweetheart. Imagine Bobby’s fingers icing your nipples – and then mine heating them…”

He kept on murmuring filthy suggestions into her ear, Bobby joining in occasionally on her other side, as Skye hurried them through the base, thankful that it was quite late now and no one was around in the corridors.

“In here,” she said finally, pushing the suite door open, and God bless Phil because he’d obviously called ahead. Someone had made the bed up with clean sheets.

“Nice,” John said, at the same time as Bobby said;

“Adequate, I suppose.”

“Don’t listen to the rich kid, darlin’,” John rolled his eyes and punched Bobby lightly on the shoulder. “Ice here is a Boston blueblood,” he told Skye’s enquiring look.

“Shut it, you Aussie oaf,” Bobby grumped back, and Skye realised that they probably sniped at each other like this all the time. She diverted them both from the argument by the simple expedient of pulling off her shirt. It worked spectacularly well, both of them immediately fixing their eyes on her. Even though she was only wearing a plain black sports bra underneath.

“You were making all kinds of promises on the way here, you _Aussie oaf_ ,” she mimicked Bobby’s insult to John. “So are you gonna carry through, or what?”

“ _Fuck_ yeah,” he breathed, shrugging off his jacket and flinging it aside carelessly, sitting down on the edge of the bed and beckoning to Skye. “Come here, please, darlin’.” He crooked a finger – but since he had asked nicely, Skye obeyed. From the corner of her eye she saw Bobby take his jacket off as well – and then pick up John’s discarded jacket and take them both to the closet.

“He’s a neat freak,” John murmured.

“Well that’s good, since I’m a slob and I’m guessing you are too. At least _one_ of us needs to be tidy,” Skye moved to stand between his knees, smiling down at him.

“Mm,” she’d lost him, she realised, as he gazed worshipfully at her breasts, his hands coming up to stroke lightly at her back. “May I?” he tapped the clip of her bra.

“Please do,” she said softly, and a moment later he had it undone. She shrugged it down her arms and threw it onto the chair where she’d dropped her shirt. “Don’t you dare fold those,” she told Bobby as he returned from the closet and looked at the chair. “Get over here.”

Bobby grinned and obeyed. “Habit,” he apologised, “sorry.”

“I won’t mind if you want to – _later_ ,” Skye said meaningfully as he came up behind her, turning her head so she could kiss him. His cool hands settled on her waist, and after a moment she felt John lift one of them off.

“Let’s start cold,” John murmured, and Bobby smiled against Skye’s mouth, removing the other hand from her waist. A moment later she yelped as an icy fingertip made contact with each nipple.

“Oh, Jesus!” her nipples were painfully hard almost instantly. His hands hadn’t been that cold on her waist, he had to be using his power somehow. And then the cold was gone, John putting a warm hand on one breast while his hot tongue licked at the other.

Skye’s knees buckled, and Bobby laughed softly in her ear and caught her, his hands once again just cool. A moment later he had repositioned her, sitting astride John’s thighs, leaning back against Bobby’s solid body.

“Feel good?” Bobby asked quietly as John switched breasts.

“Uhn,” Skye answered eloquently, and then Bobby brushed John’s hand aside and applied that icy fingertip again.

They swapped from one breast to the other, icy fingertips for hot mouth, until Skye was grinding frantically on John’s thigh, babbling pleas.

“More?” Bobby was doing the talking, since John’s mouth was busy. He trailed a chilly finger down Skye’s spine, making her arch into John and shudder, before tracing around the side of her waist. “Let’s get these off you, hmm?”

She was lust-dazed, letting them manipulate her like a rag doll, Bobby lifting her to her feet while John removed the rest of her clothes. They seemed organised, synchronised almost in their efficiency, and she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d shared a woman before.

“No,” John said, and Skye realised to her horror that in her hazy, pleasure-lost state she’d said that aloud. “We’ve both been with women, yeah, but never shared one. That wouldn’t have been right. That’s for you, only for you.”

“Oh.” And that was – really sweet. “I’ve never had a threesome,” Skye admitted. “I’m – not so sure how this is going to work. I mean logistically I have plenty of orifices…”

Bobby started chuckling at that. “Worried we’re gonna DP you on the first go, love?”

She squirmed against him. “Not so much _worried_ as – _excited_ ,” she confessed.

“Holy shit,” John muttered, having to palm his straining arousal through his pants. Bobby was making slightly stunned gulping noises. “You had anal before?” John was staring at her, blue eyes hungry.

“Yes,” Skye nodded, pink-cheeked, but realistically she was glad they were talking about this. That she would know what to expect, know what _they_ expected.

“And you liked it?”

“Yeah.” She refused to be embarrassed about that. “I mean, I knew I had two soulmates, and I expected – _hoped_ , anyway – you’d both be guys, because I’ve never felt sexually attracted to a woman, and I didn’t want to seem like a completely inexperienced goof…”

“Trust me, both of us are _very much pleased_ by the fact that we don’t have to treat you like a nervous virgin,” John told her.

“Yeah,” Bobby ground against her ass. “ _Very_ much so.”

Skye wiggled back against him happily. She was still aroused, very much so. If they’d kept up that hot/cold thing with her nipples much longer she suspected she could have come just from that. Not that she was going to say so, because she had the terrible feeling that John, at least, would want to find out. Instead she reached forward and plucked at the shoulder of his T-shirt.

“Why are you guys still dressed and I’m in my birthday suit?”

That made John grin, and he stood up from the bed and pulled off his shirt, revealing a very pleasantly muscled torso, long and lean and nicely defined. Skye licked her lips, turning as she heard fabric rustle behind her to see Bobby unbuttoning his cotton shirt. He was a little stockier than John, but ripped as well, no excess flesh on either of them. Skye reached out both hands, touched two sets of washboard abs.

“I feel like a _very_ lucky girl,” she purred.

“We’re _all_ getting lucky,” John riposted, unfastening his belt. He was a little quicker getting undressed than Bobby, pulled Skye down onto the bed with him. It was a big bed too, a California King, which was good. Since they’d all be sharing it. “Since you’re slow, I’m taking first turn,” John taunted Bobby laughingly.

“Huh?” Skye said.

“I promised we were gonna take turns eating you out, darlin’. Had you forgotten?” He grinned wickedly at her, tweaked both her nipples in strong fingers before kissing down across her stomach.

“I _had_ forgotten. But I’m not objecting,” Skye said happily, parting her legs and bending her knees. John lay down between them, tucking his legs under her thighs, placing his hands on her hips. He pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses across her stomach, down her thigh, moving across to the other one. Skye was so focussed on what he was doing as he spiralled inwards in a slow circle that she had almost forgotten about Bobby, at least until he lay down beside her, propping himself on one elbow so that he could lean over and kiss her breasts. He was obviously controlling his body temperature, because while his mouth was warm, his fingertips were icy cold again.

“Oh, God, _unh_ ,” Skye moaned as he started up with the hot/cold on her nipples again. And then John’s hot tongue swiped over her clit and she jerked against him.

John made a humming sound in his throat, licked again, just as Bobby’s cold fingers closed on her nipple again.

There were no words in the noise that wrenched out of Skye, just a frantic wail.

“She likes that,” Bobby murmured. “Here…” and he replaced his fingers with his mouth and reached down. Realising what he meant to do, John pulled back with a grin, let Bobby flick that icy fingertip over Skye’s clit before John licked hotly again.

Skye howled and thrashed, but John’s strong hand held her hips still, and then Bobby did it again, the _cold_ followed by the _hot_ of John’s mouth, Bobby’s mouth sucking hard on her nipple at the same time, and she climaxed, harder than she’d ever done in her life, bucking and squealing, her power slipping loose and tremoring through all three of them, Bobby and John reacting with pleasured groans.

“Mm, mm,” John was lapping thirstily at her, pulled back as she slowly began to relax. “Here, Ice, you have a turn.”

“Hell yes, does she taste good?” Bobby lifted his head eagerly.

John grinned. “Have a taste,” and he leaned towards Bobby. Skye lay, pleasantly sated, and watched them kiss, Bobby licking into John’s mouth, making greedy, delighted sounds.

“Oh yeah I gotta have me some of that,” and they were moving around, Bobby lying down between Skye’s legs and John getting off the bed.

“What’s in the bag, darlin’?” he asked, picking it up for a look. “Ah, good. I suspected Coulson had something of the sort in mind, the way he was glaring at me when he gave you this.”

Bobby, tongue very occupied, made an inquiring sound, and John tipped the bag out onto the bed. “Flip her over, Ice. Let her sit on your face while I open her up.”

That provoked only pleased noises from Bobby, and he grasped hold of Skye’s hips and rolled them both over. Unable to hold herself up, Skye only folded her forearms in front of her and rested her brow on them, trying to just breathe as Bobby’s tongue worked her over. And then John was behind her – sitting astride Bobby’s stomach, she suspected – both hands landing lightly on her ass.

“You okay with me doing this, Skye?” he checked softly, brushing the tip of one finger over her hole.

“Yes,” she panted out, trying to roll her hips against Bobby’s mouth. “Yes, God, yes, please, you can do anything you want to me.”

“Good girl. So fucking lovely, darlin’, you have a stunning ass.” He slapped her buttock lightly and Skye jumped and moaned. “You like that? Again?” Another smack, this one lower, fingers curving inwards. A third and his fingertips made contact with her pussy, just behind where Bobby’s mouth was working hungrily at her clit, and Skye shuddered and groaned, coming again, Bobby making pleased noises as he thirstily lapped up her juices.

 “Fucking hell, you’re sensitive,” John murmured, reaching for the lube, slicking his fingers. He stroked down the cleft of Skye’s buttocks, circled slowly around her puckered little hole before easing a finger in gently. She moaned and shifted – but she was pushing back against the intrusion, greedy for more, taking his finger fully inside. “That’s it, darlin’,” he stroked the slightly reddened mark where he’d spanked her, drew his finger out gently. She let out a little wail of loss and he stroked her bottom soothingly, pressing back in with two fingers this time.

“Oh yes, God, please, aaah, aaah,” Skye was nearly sobbing, pushing back against John as he stretched her, slow and gentle, the little burn as his fingers worked inside her an incredible stimulation combined with Bobby’s tongue and lips working her clit. She hadn’t really come down from that second spectacular orgasm, was coasting along on continuing little waves of ecstasy as the pair of them worked, utterly focussed on her, dedicated to her pleasure.

At last John eased back, wiped his fingers on the sheet, reached for the condoms. He stroked Bobby’s cock for a moment, not that either of them needed encouragement. Bobby was hard and eager, making low noises in his chest as John rolled the condom on, and then John put his hand on Skye’s waist and between the two men they lifted her and drew her gently down over Bobby. She was trembling and whimpering, her hair a tangled mess around her sweaty face.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Bobby stroked her hair back, gathered it in one hand, kissed her softly. “Easy. You ready for this, okay for us to fuck you?”

“Yes, oh please,” she whimpered, and he nodded and eased her down a little further, onto the end of his cock and then slowly, gently down on him.

Finally Skye had something solid to hold onto, and she clung to Bobby’s broad shoulders as though drowning, gasping as he filled her, thick and solid. He was groaning low in his throat, hips rocking gently in small thrusts.

“Slow down, Ice, you two are jumpin’ ahead, mate,” John said laughingly, rolling on his own protection and grabbing the lube again. “Hold still a sec so I can join in.”

“Hurry up then, because Skye feels waaay too fuckin’ good and I ain’t gonna last too long,” Bobby grunted, his fingers tightening on Skye’s hips as he made himself be still. She keened unhappily.

“Hush, hush, darlin’,” John stroked her back gently. “Just give me a moment. Gonna fill you all up, give you all we got.” He nudged Bobby’s knees apart, knelt between them, teased his male soulmate’s tight, swollen balls for a moment.

“Oh, _shit_ , you bastard,” Bobby muttered, having to grit his teeth. “Come _on_!”

John laughed quietly, put one hand on the small of Skye’s back to hold her still, took his cock in his free hand and teased the end over Skye’s hole before leaning in slowly. She tensed and he stopped, waiting for her to relax before moving deeper, making little thrusts in and out, the lube slicking her further, easing his passage. She was making frantic whines deep in her throat, clawing at Bobby’s shoulders, by the time John bottomed out, his groin pushing up against her ass.

“ _Fuuuuck_ ,” John had to stop, catch his breath. Hunched over Skye, he pressed his brow to her back, between her shoulder blades, holding still for a moment.

Bobby reached around Skye, stroked John’s side. “Not laughin’ now, are ya Pyro?”

“ _So_ tight,” John gasped, and then he had to bite down on his tongue for a moment, trying to pull back from the brink.

“Move, _please_ move,” Skye moaned, and both men groaned together as she tried to writhe between them.

“Okay. Okay, sweetheart, we’re moving.” Two pairs of hands settled on her hips, fingers linking together, and John moved back, lifting Skye a little way off Bobby. And then lowered her down again, so that John slid partway out even as Bobby plunged deep.

They alternated, in, out, in, out, a slow steady rhythm that drove Skye utterly wild. She panted, desperate for more, begging in a voice gone hoarse from screaming. Finally John pulled her up towards him, both hands around her to hold her breasts, pinching her nipples sharply, and Bobby worked a hand down between them to press a cool finger against her clit, and they both sped up, hips thrusting hard, filling her simultaneously now.

It was hard and rough and _perfect_. Skye lasted only a few more seconds before the tremors raced through her again and she was clenching hard on both of them, making incoherent sobbing noises. Neither could hold out against the increased tightness as her internal muscles convulsed, sudden involuntary vibrations running through her transmitting to both of them, and they both cried out, pushed over the edge, stilling and pulsing deep inside Skye.

“Fuckin’ _hell_ , darlin’,” John muttered hoarsely after a few moments, his Australian accent suddenly very pronounced. He lowered Skye gently to lie on Bobby’s chest, waiting until Bobby had his arms wrapped firmly around her before setting his hands to Skye’s hips and easing gently out of her ass. Laying down beside her, he took her in his arms as Bobby eased her gently off him and gave her to John to hold.

“You okay, Skye?” John stroked Skye’s sweat-dampened hair back from her forehead gently.

“Uhhh,” she couldn’t get any proper words out, so she just nodded against his chest.

“All right, shh, shh,” he stroked her back soothingly. “Iceman?”

“Yeah,” Bobby struggled up off the bed with a grunt, headed for the ensuite bathroom. He came back a couple of minutes later with a washcloth, wet with warm water, wiped Skye down gently with it. John left for a moment to dispose of his own condom, came back and curled into Skye’s other side, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her bruised, swollen lips softly.

“You are beautiful,” John whispered between tender kisses, “amazing, so lovely.”

“Stunning,” Bobby put in, kissing her back of her neck, across her shoulder, “perfect.”

Skye lay between them, stunned and a little awed by what had just passed between the three of them. She’d never felt _anything_ that good. Not even _close_. And from the quiet, contented murmurs both men were making as they caressed her, they felt the same.

“Will it always be like that?” she whispered, when she finally managed to get her voice back.

“No,” Bobby murmured, kissing her neck again. John finished off the sentence.

“Sometimes it’ll be _even better_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PHEW. I… think I need a cold shower.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Now guys, I’ve written nearly 20,000 words of pretty much pure smut in the last week, with these 5 chapters. I need a break for a couple of days to haul my brain back out of the gutter. And the next one I have to write is Bucky/Brock, as requested by kokoronotsubasa, Hiddentrickster and superhero_heart. Which has to fit into the STRIKE Team Uncles full fic, which I am working on planning out at the moment, so I really do need a few days to puzzle out any things that need to get put in which may become important later. Skye/Rollins is very close to the top of the list and that will fit into the same fic, but much later on, so I’ll have some planning work to do there too.**
> 
> **All of which means, these five chapters won’t be added to for a couple of days at least. So you have that long to decide which ship you’d like to vote for from THIS chapter. And please don’t forget to tell me what you think in the comments as well as the ship, I’d love to hear if this smut is ‘doing it’ for you!**
> 
> **Anyway, here’s the current list, in order…**


	7. Bucky/Brock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Follows on from (the middle of)[ _Chapter 136, Whatever It Takes_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/8656735)**
> 
> **Requested by kokoronotsubasa, Hiddentrickster and superhero_heart**
> 
> **Part of the STRIKE Team Uncles ‘verse. Since this occurs at Brock and Bucky’s first meeting, Bucky is referred to as Yasha throughout, that being the only name either of them have for him.**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Sebastian%20Stan/sebastian%20stan%201_zpsbp5povoa.jpg.html)

"Can I see the words?" Yasha asked suddenly.

"Yes, of course!" Brock scrabbled at his clothes, took off his jacket, the empty weapon harness, his shirt. Showed the row of words in a firm hand on his right pectoral muscle.

"We'd have to be face to face to bond," Yasha said. "Would you like that?"

"Fuck yes, you're gorgeous," Brock blurted, and for the first time an expression touched Yasha's face, a small smile.

"I was just thinkin' the same thing," he drawled, and for a moment the accent was pure Brooklyn.

Brock smiled, and Yasha stood up. Held out his flesh hand.

"Nobody will disturb us. It is possible that we will not see each other again for a long time, but I wish to bond with you. To know that - there is someone who cares for me."

Brock hesitated. He really wasn't in the habit of jumping into bed with someone he'd just met. But... this wasn't some random stranger. This was his _soulmate_. And if Yasha was right about their being separated... he reached out, took the offered hand and tugged lightly, bringing Yasha towards the bed.

"I'd like that."

“You are – so handsome.” It was the metal hand which came up to touch his cheek gently, and Brock realised that Yasha must have feeling in it, incredible as that seemed. He smiled awkwardly.

“You’re gonna make me blush.”

That earned him another smile, a slight dimple flashing in the other man’s cheek. “I would like to see you blush,” Yasha said, his voice softer and deeper. “All over.”

Brock’s breath was coming quickly. He hadn’t got this aroused, this fast, since – well, ever, actually. Even when he was a horny teenager. But then, this was his soulmate, he reminded himself, this beautiful blue-eyed, broad-shouldered man with the plushest, pinkest lips Brock had ever seen. He swallowed, licked at his own dry lips, and cold metal at the back of his neck pulled him forward to meet those sensual pink lips.

Yasha might have been bold to this point, but the kiss was soft, hesitant; very quickly it was Brock taking over, nipping gently at Yasha’s lower lips, startling a moan from the taller man. Brock’s arms were around Yasha’s waist, holding him close, his strong hands settling on the smooth skin of the other man’s lower back.

“ _Brock_ ,” Yasha said his name, gruff and low, when Brock let his mouth go, and his name on those plush pink lips sent a jolt straight to his cock, hardening painfully, constricted by his combat pants.

“I don’t suppose they gave us any lube, or condoms?”

Yasha was silent, and Brock sighed. “Well. I guess, we’re soulmates anyway, so barebacking was going to wind up happening at some point. You’re clean?”

“I cannot catch diseases,” Yasha said with a shrug.

Brock blinked, and then Yasha was kissing him again and he had to file the information away as something to ask about later. He found himself pushed down on the bed, Yasha’s hands working eagerly at his belt, and then those plump pink lips were closing around his straining cock and Brock forgot how to think about anything.

“Oh sweet Jesus.” He arched helplessly, thrusting deep into Yasha’s throat, and his soulmate just _took_ it, no gag reflex apparently, which was so hot that Brock almost came on the spot. He groaned huskily, threading his fingers into Yasha’s long hair, feeling the silky strands run through his fingers. “So good. So good, you gorgeous man, oh God, yes,” as Yasha bobbed his head quickly, tonguing the underside of Brock’s cock. “No, wait, stop, I’m gonna fucking come!”

His soulmate was too good, and too beautiful, those pink lips stretched around Brock’s cock, blue eyes gazing up at him through thick dark lashes. And he didn’t pull off, just sped up his pace, cool metal fingers suddenly stroking around Brock’s tight, swollen balls.

Brock came with a choked cry, collapsing back on the thin mattress as fireworks exploded behind his closed eyelids. Yasha kept working on him, sucking and licking him clean before moving down to lick and nibble at his balls, lifting his legs and grasping both Brock’s ankles with his metal hand, holding them high in the air with a hold Brock suspected could be kept in the same place for hours. He whimpered at the thought.

“You want this?” Yasha’s voice was low and raspy. “Do you mind being fucked?”

“I like to fuck, I like to be fucked, oh _fuck_!” Yasha’s tongue breached the tight ring of Brock’s ass.

Brock had never been rimmed so thoroughly in his life. Yasha’s tongue was tireless, spit trickling into his hole, first one finger and then a second working alongside his tongue, scissoring him wide open.

At twenty-six, Brock was young and superbly fit. He really hadn’t thought he could be fully hard again within five minutes of an orgasm, though, but then, he’d never been with his soulmate before. A fingertip brushing lightly over his prostate made his ass buck up, his fingers clawing at the rough sheet under his body, inarticulate noises coming from his throat.

“That’s it,” Yasha had a third finger inside him now, working him wide open, lifted his head up to look at his soulmate’s face. Brock was gorgeous, all sharply chiselled cheekbones with a heavy-lidded, Latin look to his whisky-gold eyes, thick black hair sharply styled, and a magnificently muscled body. Yasha wanted to taste every inch of him, but he didn’t know how long they’d have together. Perhaps only long enough for him to give Brock a little pleasure, which was why he’d sucked him off immediately, wanting to give his soulmate as much as he could; hoping that Brock would want to return to him again, if they were permitted. Time enough for more, the chance to bond; well that was a grace he hadn’t expected, but he’d take it gladly. Releasing Brock’s legs to drop down on either side of him, he put his metal hand on Brock’s erect, leaking cock even as his finger pressed on the prostate gland again, relished the other man’s almost frantic cry.

“Please!” Feet back down on the mattress, Brock snapped upright and grabbed, his eyes wild. His hands closed hard on broad shoulders, one cool metal, one warm flesh. “ _Please_.”

“I’m sorry…” Yasha took his metal hand off Brock’s cock. “You don’t want that on you.”

For answer, Brock grabbed the hand, dragged it to his mouth, kissed each fingertip in turn. “Shut. Up. And. Fuck. Me.” He pulled the hand back down to his cock. “ _Now_.”

Yasha fully expected the door to burst open and Pierce to walk in, order them to get dressed. When it didn’t happen as he yanked his pants down and pressed slowly into Brock’s ass, he didn’t care enough to wonder why. He only cared about the man writhing on the bed beneath him, the tight muscle sucking him in deep, the strong arms reaching up to hold him.

Brock groaned as Yasha’s long cock slid slowly deep into his body, lifted and spread his knees to improve the angle, make it easier.

“Does that feel good?” Yasha growled, his gaze hot on Brock’s body, pupils blown right out so there was just a thin ring of bright blue around all that blackness.

“So good,” Brock gasped, “aaah, _hnngg_!” as Yasha pumped his hips, the tip of his cock grazing right over Brock’s prostate.

It had been a long, long time since Yasha had been permitted any sort of sexual release. His American masters were much harsher than the Russians had been. The Russians had worked him hard, but they had also been considerate of his body’s human needs. This Pierce who gave him his orders now, he seemed to think Yasha was some kind of robot, a killing machine who he could take out and use and store in a closet when he didn’t need him.

Well, if Pierce was watching right now, he’d be getting one hell of a show. Brock was groaning, shoving back into Yasha’s deep penetration, the thick muscles of his chest and arms bunching as he grasped onto the thin sheet. He was glorious, young and strong and beautiful, and Yasha groaned deep in his chest too, thrusting his hips harder, his rhythm growing choppy. His metal hand worked Brock’s cock until Brock grabbed his arm and yanked.

“I’m sorry…”

“No! Not that. We can’t bond if your hand is there.”

It was true, Yasha realised: Brock’s mark was on his stomach just above the tip of where his erect cock reached; Yasha’s, a little higher, almost over his solar plexus.

“You want to…?”

“Now, Yasha, _please_ , so _close_ , I’m gonna come again,” Brock was almost sobbing, clinging to him, trying frantically to pull him closer. “Kiss me,” he demanded, and Yasha slowly, hesitantly bent forward.

He could _see_ Brock’s strength in the rippling muscles, but still the power in the grip that pulled his head down as Brock’s arms locked around his neck surprised him. And then Brock was kissing him, tasting his own semen in Yasha’s mouth and groaning hungrily, licking and sucking at his lips and tongue, the kiss sloppy and a little frantic. Yasha let go, relaxed into the kiss, let the orgasm burst through him, feeling Brock clench around him as he came too, hot spurts of come squirting between their bodies pressed close together, the marks touching throughout.

It was like walking into a dark room and switching on the light; almost dazzling. As their souls merged Yasha saw into Brock’s heart, saw that his fears about Brock not wanting to come back to him were so utterly unfounded as to be laughable. Brock’s loyalty, once given, was unshakeable; no matter what HYDRA might do to either of them, his heart was Yasha’s, now and forever.

In return, Brock saw into his soulmate; saw the steely core of will which had bent but not broken despite everything that had been done to him. He understood that Yasha had made his choice, had _chosen_ to bend, to serve, because the alternative was to lay down and die, and that never had, never would be, a part of Yasha’s character.  Yasha might no longer know who he was or where he had come from, but buried deep inside him there remained a quiet certitude, a knowledge that all things change, that one day the world would turn and Yasha would still be standing while his enemies burned.

“Such _strength_ ,” Brock whispered, awed, gazing into Yasha’s blue eyes.

“So much _heart_ ,” Yasha whispered back, his metal fingers tracing lightly along Brock’s jaw. They had stilled completely against each other with the shock of the bond, of _knowing_ each other for the first time.

“Your enemies…”

“We will destroy them together. In time.” They shared a long, slow kiss, a promise to each other, and then Yasha slipped gently out, grabbed a corner of the sheet to wipe the sticky white fluids from his soulmate’s body. Brock opened his arms to him and the two men nestled together, holding each other close for however long they would be permitted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is my first effort at m/m smut, I’ve only written m/f and m/m/f before – I have the awful feeling that it’s not very good, but hey, I tried! I’ll be trying to write f/f and m/f/f smut for the first time too in this series, so please be kind to me!**
> 
> **And yes, it’s more than a little bit poignant, but that’s how Brock and Bucky would have been in this universe, while HYDRA used them to control each other. In the STRIKE Team Uncles fic – which is provisionally called STRIKE No More (if anyone can come up with a better title I’d love to hear it) they WILL get to have happy victory sex too!**
> 
> **Next to be written will be Skye/Pietro, as requested by barelyquirky (I think), KrazyKeke, Felix, darklou91, SarahJaneDoctor, Zenobia_Rhys, jdho2, skmitten, BurningCrashingRaining. And yes, for those of you who became Pietro fans after reading my fic[ _That Accent Is Definitely A Superpower_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3584472/chapters/7903194), the accent will definitely be featuring! (If you decide to read it now, bear in mind it was written before the release of AoU).**
> 
> **You can of course have another vote this chapter from the following list, as to which ship you’d like to see get the smut treatment next.**


	8. Skye/Pietro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Continues from[Chapter 37, _I Can’t Stop It Now_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/6475115)**
> 
> **Requested by barelyquirky, KrazyKeke, Felix, darklou91, SarahJaneDoctor, Zenobia_Rhys, jdho2, skmitten and BurningCrashingRaining**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Looking back, that chapter stands up reasonably well even though it was written so long before AoU came out. Because Pietro is NOT DEAD, ALRIGHT??? Except I didn’t know about THAT ACCENT then.**
> 
> **So after the original Short, the Avengers are all stroppy with Coulson and the two teams end up going their separate ways. Pietro and Skye are so distracted by each other they don’t realise what’s happening until the last minute, at which point Pietro protests _vigorously_ but is convinced to leave by Wanda. **
> 
> **The following day, Phil is somehow not all that surprised when an SUV turns up with four passengers, Steve, Maria Hill, Wanda and Pietro.**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/Quicksilver_zpsttsywqmf.jpg.html)

“How did I guess I’d be seeing you again sooner rather than later?” Phil said dryly as the visitors were shown into his office by an annoyed May.

“It’s impossible to say no to Cap’s Disappointed Face, I thought you knew that,” Maria said blithely. “And if I did, _she’d_ just mess with my head until I agreed,” she gestured at Wanda.

Phil could see Pietro shifting uneasily, leaning back and peering down the corridor not at all unobtrusively. “Skye’s office is at the end of the hall,” he said, and blinked as the white-haired man vanished in a blur. “Does he do that all the time?”

“You get used to eet,” Wanda said in a soft, sultry accent. “Eet ees vairy nice to meet you, Director Coulson. I have heard many wonderful theengs about you.”

Charmed, he smiled and accepted her slender hand to shake. “I’ve been hearing some wonderful things about you too, Wanda. May I call you Wanda? Please call me Phil.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye looked up as her office door opened and closed against just as quickly. But there was no one there, and she blinked before shaking her head and looking back at her laptop.

Warm breath on the back of her neck made her let out a sudden shriek, though she now had her power firmly enough under control that she didn’t send out a wave of vibration even as she shot to her feet and spun around.

Pietro laughed at her from the other side of the office.

“You asshole!” But she couldn’t stop smiling, because it was so unexpected to see him, and so good, too. He looked great, wearing a tan leather jacket over a light blue T-shirt and darker blue jeans ripped out at the knees, his silver-blond hair a mess of unruly curls her fingers itched to untangle.

“ _Your_ asshole, remember,” he said, and then he was suddenly in front of her, so quick that Skye felt almost dizzy as her eyes tried instinctively to follow the movement. Large warm hands cupped her cheeks gently, threaded into her hair as he stooped to kiss her. His mouth tasted like sin, like dark chilli chocolate, spicy and sweet.

“Ohhh,” Skye sagged against Pietro when he finally lifted his head. “Damn. I thought I’d dreamed how good a kisser you are.”

He smiled, obviously pleased at that. “I am good at other theengs you will like, too.”

Her knees went weak(er) at the obviously filthy innuendo. And his accent, because oh God, that _accent_ in that low husky voice of his.

“Unnngghhh,” she said eloquently, staring up into icy blue eyes.

Pietro frowned, and she was reminded suddenly that English was clearly not his first language. He might actually be trying to mentally translate that stupid noise she just made. To distract him she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers again. He was clearly far from averse to that, strong arms curling around her waist holding her close – and then he scooped her off her feet and Skye squeaked into his mouth, wondering what the hell he intended to do, at least until her butt landed on the hard top of her desk, lifting her a good bit closer to his height.

“You’re lovely but you are very short,” Pietro murmured, his eyes gleaming down at her. “I do not want you to get a sore neck.”

“I’m not _that_ short I’m five foot si…” he was kissing her again, giving her no time to finish speaking, and Skye poked him sharply in the chest.

“What?” he lifted his head, looking annoyed.

“Don’t you _dare_ kiss me to shut me up.” Her dark brown eyes sparked fire up at him. “I am absolutely not going to put up with that kind of shit from you.”

For a long moment they stared at each other, until Pietro began to smile slowly. “Of course you will not. I did not kiss you to shut you up. I kissed you because I can’t look at you and _not_ want to kiss you. Because all I can think about right now is how soon you will allow me into your bed, to touch you intimately, to worship your body as you deserve.”

It was a good thing Skye was already sitting down, because she suspected her knees had melted. “Would you think I was slutty if I slept with you on the first date?”

“No.” He blinked once. “Does this count as a date?”

Skye was in danger of making incoherent noises again, so she bit on her lip until she managed to get control of her voice back. “I don’t think my office could be considered a date location. Um. The door doesn’t lock, anyway.”

Pietro glanced at the door. At the blind which could be pulled down to cover the glass panel in the middle of it. “That wouldn’t matter if I fucked you up against it. Nobody could come in anyway.”

She couldn’t stop the noise this time. It sounded rather like a pterodactyl screeching. Pietro started laughing.

“You _troll_!” Skye gasped.

“I do not live under a bridge any more, thank you very much!”

It was the ‘any more’ that kept her from laughing her head off, reminding her that he had suffered, had lived homeless too. Reaching up, she smoothed his thick, unruly hair back from his brow with gentle fingers, and his expression sobered.

“Why do you look sad when you should laugh with me, my beautiful Skye?”

“Just realising how much alike we really are,” she said softly.

Pietro gazed at her, taking in the buried pain in her expression, the way she hid her eyes behind her bangs and peeped up at him through them. “I want to hear your story, when you are ready to tell it to me,” he told her quietly. “Mine has been broadcast across half the planet already, the price of becoming an Avenger. I know nothing of yours.”

She looked down, twisted her hands together in her lap. “It’s – messy. My parents were – my mother…”

“Hush,” a broad hand caressed her hair. “Not now. You’re not ready to speak of it yet, I see that.”

“Not yet,” she admitted, relieved, leaning into his touch as his palm brushed her cheek lightly. And then she reached up and grabbed his hand, hopping off the desk. “I don’t want to _talk_ at all, really. Come with me.”

“Where is everyone?” Pietro asked, puzzled, as Skye led him down deserted corridors.

“Most of them are on the helicarrier or the _Iliad_ right now,” she shrugged. “Relaunching the helicarrier took most of SHIELD’s resources, but mothballing her again seems a bit silly, and we lost a lot of experienced people on the Iliad during... well, during an attack. There’s a few things still to be finished off, but Coulson’s planning to relocate his command centre to the Helicarrier in a few weeks.”

“Will you go with him?” Pietro asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Skye shrugged, opened a door. “That – kinda depends on you, I suppose.”

“Does it?” He followed her in, and smiled slowly as he realised it was her bedroom. A simple room, not particularly comfortable and certainly not as luxurious as his suite in Avengers Tower or even the apartment he shared with Wanda at the new Avengers Training Facility. Yet it was clearly Skye’s place, bright pictures on the walls and small knickknacks here and there making it charmingly homey. He touched a hula doll on a shelf lightly, smiling as it rocked in place. “Cute.”

Skye was standing by the door, head down and to one side, eyes turned away, looking a little uncertain now she’d brought him here. Not wanting to spook her, Pietro moved about the room, looking at her things, touching one or two curiously. He’d never had the opportunity in his life to collect possessions as it seemed Skye had done; he looked forward to hearing about what memories the objects evoked for her. Finally, he moved behind Skye, slipping his arms around her waist, bending his head to nuzzle gently at her hair.

“Thank you for showing me your personal space,” Pietro murmured quietly.

“I thought – we…” it had been years since Skye had blushed when talking or thinking about sex, but Pietro seemed so very different to Miles or any of the men she’d been with before.

Warm lips brushed her neck gently. His chin was stubbled and the roughness of the coarse hair against her tender throat made Skye shudder.

“Tell me what you want,” Pietro whispered huskily in her ear. “Tell me what you like.” A big hand slipped slowly, so slowly, under the hem of her shirt, splayed on her flat stomach for a moment as though seeking permission, and then when she didn’t move to push him off, worked upwards to gently curve over her breast, his thumb working circles around her nipple through the thin lace of her bra.

“I… like it when you touch me,” Skye mumbled breathlessly.

“Hmmm.” He hummed low in his throat. “Like this?” His strong fingers pinched suddenly at her nipple, firm but not brutal, just the way Skye liked it best.

“Oh, yes, _nnn_!” Skye jerked in his hold, her hands lifting to settle on his wrists. “More,” she begged huskily when he didn’t move his hands, “please, Pietro – more.”

His lips closed on her earlobe, teeth grazing lightly, and his other hand came up to cover her other breast. “Both?” It was a double pinch this time, and she mewled helplessly. “Sensitive,” Pietro murmured. “I like, _še_ _ćeru_.”

“What does that mean?” Skye mumbled as his fingers continued their play, tweaking and pinching, his hot mouth on her neck scrambling her brain entirely.

“Sugar,” he whispered hoarsely, “because you are sweet, like sugar.” The slow drag of his tongue up her neck broke Skye completely. She reached out with shaking fingers, turned the lock on the door.

Pietro hummed in his throat, pleased, and plucked at Skye’s bra, tugging the cups down and rubbing his thumbs over her stiffened nipples.

“Will anyone come looking for you?” Skye thought she’d just better check before they began.

“No.” He wasn’t going to kill the mood by telling her that his sister would know very well what he was up to and would keep them from being interrupted. Skye and Wanda would get to know each other in their own time; Wanda was already predisposed to adore her because she was Pietro’s soulmate anyway, and he didn’t want to spook Skye. “Your skin is so soft,” he murmured against her neck, his fingers toying lightly with her nipples.

Skye shivered and leaned back against him, dropping her hands behind her to place them on his muscled thighs. She could feel the thick cording of muscle beneath the coarse denim, sighed with pleasure as her fingers traced slowly upwards, investigating the thick shape of his arousal behind his fly. Pietro made a low rumbling sound against her neck and then he was moving, so fast she couldn’t comprehend it, lifting her and setting her down on the bed. To Skye it was a Tilt-A-Whirl as the room blurred around her and she was suddenly lying on her back, Pietro kneeling above her, his gaze intense as he looked down at her.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist using that superspeed,” Skye joked.

His smile was bright, white teeth flashing. “I do not deny that I am in a hurry to sample your charms. Some things, you will find, I like to do _slowly_ , though.” A long finger traced from her chin down her neck, over the hollow of her throat, stopped at the neck of her shirt. “I want to taste every centimetre of your skin, _še_ _ćeru._ Find out how sweet you are all over.”

There was gooseflesh springing up on Skye’s arms. No one had ever looked at her with such intensity, such heat, such blatant hunger. Not even Ward in the depths of his obsession had looked at her as Pietro did now, as though the two of them were the only two people in the world; but Skye felt no fear. Only burgeoning excitement. “I want that,” she managed to get out around a tightening lump in her throat. “Want to touch you, too. Taste you.” She reached up, pushed his jacket back off his shoulders. Stared, feasting her eyes, as he shrugged it off and tossed it casually aside, peeling off his tight T-shirt and throwing it after the jacket.

Pietro was lean rather than bulky, but he was all muscle, not an ounce of fat on him. He had a light sprinkling of dark brown chest hair, the same colour as his stubble. “When did your hair turn white?” Skye had to ask, her finger slowly tracing his chest hair as it tapered to a thin happy trail down his stomach. Pietro had been asked numerous times in interviews if he coloured his hair; he always just shook his head and wouldn’t answer more questions about it.

“After I discovered my power.” He rubbed his hand a little ruefully at his chin. “My stubble is beginning to grow in white, too. Soon I shall look like an old man.”

That made Skye giggle and shake her head, breaking the intensity of the moment down a little. Pietro had a great sense of humour, though she suspected that he could be very much a troll, rather like herself. He grinned down at her, his blue eyes crinkling adorably at the corners, before leaning in to kiss her hungrily. “May I?” he whispered against her lips, plucking lightly at the hem of her shirt.

Skye nodded, and he drew it up slowly and gently, ducking down to scatter kisses across her stomach. It was when he got to the scarred, roughened spot where Ian Quinn had shot her twice that Skye suddenly stiffened.

“What is this?” Pietro lifted his head, looked at the scars. His face grew grim as he saw the two obvious bullet hole scars, thin white lines of surgical scars from where Jemma and other doctors had worked frantically to save her life.

“Old wounds,” Skye shook her head, put her hands to his cheeks. “An old enemy ordered it. He’s dead.”

Pietro searched her face for a moment, and then nodded. “Dead enemies are the only good kind, _zar ne_?” He twisted around, showed her his back, and Skye almost screamed at the sight of the six huge scars there. “Ultron.”

She knew – the whole world knew – that Dr Helen Cho had somehow brought him back from the dead after he sacrificed himself for Hawkeye and a child during the Battle of Sokovia, but seeing the terrible wounds the quinjet’s minigun had inflicted was horrible, and she realised how he had felt seeing the scars on her stomach. Lightly she touched her fingers to one of the thick white scars. “To dead enemies,” she said quietly.

“Only think how angered they would be that we have found each other,” Pietro turned back, reached to her, pulled her shirt the rest of the way up until Skye lifted her arms and let him take it off. Smiling up at him, she reached down and unhooked the front clasp of her bra, hearing his breath hitch as she exposed her breasts to his passion-filled gaze.

Pietro muttered something long and incomprehensible in Sokovian, smiled when Skye looked a question at him. “Just. You are so beautiful.” Embracing her, he held her close for a moment, her breasts pressed against his chest, kissing her slowly and lingeringly, his tongue playing teasingly with hers. His skin felt hot against hers, even though her room was cool – the Playground’s heating system was pretty antiquated – and she remembered that his metabolism was enhanced. And then all thought flew right out of her head as he shifted and rocked his groin against hers.

Skye moaned into his mouth as he ground against her, her knees lifting to bracket his hips as her slender hands ran lightly down his back, slipped just under the waistband of his jeans to caress the top of his buttocks.

Pietro groaned back, grinding again helplessly, unable to focus on anything but the need to feel more of Skye’s skin against his, the desperate _want_ to be inside her that overwhelmed him. Pulling back, he made himself slow down, began to fulfil his promise of tasting every centimetre of her skin by kissing down her throat, swirling his tongue slowly where her pulse beat frantically in the hollow before sliding lower. He took his time getting to her breasts, nibbling and licking all around them before stroking his fingers slowly up from her sides to the tips and flicking her nipples suddenly with his fingertips.

Skye made a sound low in her chest, hungry, needy, frustrated, grabbed at his shoulders. “Pietro. Please. Could you leave that promise to taste me all over until next time and just fuck me right now?”

Surprised, he laughed. “But you taste so _good_ ,” he purred, made his tongue into a point and flicked it over one swollen nipple.

She growled at him and sank her nails into his shoulders.

“Ouch, you impatient woman!” Grinning, he reached down to the fastening of her pants, unzipped them. “All right, we can speed things up if that’s what you want. I can go faster than you ever _dreamed_.” Something occurred to him then and he paused. “Skye – do you have any protection? Condoms?”

“You didn’t bring any with you?”

Pietro picked his words carefully. “I did not think that you would allow me into your bed so soon. Did not dare to hope.”

Skye’s deep brown eyes were soft as she looked up at him, and then she nodded. “In the bathroom,” she waved a hand at the open door in the corner. “Medicine cabinet.”

He snatched a kiss and got up quickly, headed to the bathroom. He took the time to use the toilet, wash his hands, before checking in the cabinet and finding an unopened three-pack of condoms. Ripping the wrapper off and tossing it in the bin, he opened the door – and stopped short.

Skye had stripped off the rest of her clothes and lay atop the bed, _playing with herself_. One hand lazily stroking between her legs, the fingers of the other plucked lightly at a peaked nipple.

Pietro choked.

“You’re still being too slow,” Skye taunted him.

He blurred into motion, and when she blinked he was on the bed beside her, stark naked. Grabbing the hand between her legs, he brought it to his mouth, drew her fingers into his mouth one at a time to suck them clean, blue eyes holding hers the whole time.

“Delicious,” he murmured huskily at last, and then he brought her hand back down. “Show me how you like it, how you touch yourself.”

A little shy for a moment, Skye mentally shrugged when he looked only at her hand and not her face, began to circle her fingers around her clit, down to dip briefly into her passage before returning. “I start off slow,” she murmured, “get myself nice and wet. Then…” she moved her other hand down, spread herself open, using two fingers to exert pressure. The hood of her clit slid back to expose the tiny, glistening tip of the organ. “Quick… like… that…” the tip of her index finger slipped back and forth quickly. Skye’s breath hissed between her teeth, her body shifting, thigh muscles tensing.

Pietro muttered something harsh in Sokovian, and then he shoved her hands aside and dived in, his stubble rasping her thighs as his tongue swept over her clit, both his thumbs pressing in to hold the hood back.

“Ah – God, yes, there, like that!” Skye’s fingers tangled in his hair, her breathing sped up, hips bucking up against him. “Yes, ahhh, yes yes _yessss_ …” his tongue suddenly accelerated its motion, _vibrating_ over her clit, and Skye’s breathy cries became a yowl, sudden wracking shudders running through her. Pietro hummed happily and she quivered, the orgasm going on and on as he prolonged it with light, gentle sweeps of his tongue over her sensitive clit.

Skye was making soft little whimpering sounds, shivering every few seconds, her fingers slowly loosening their grip on his hair. Pietro waited until she had stilled completely before increasing the pressure with his tongue, sliding a long finger into her soaking tunnel, listening to her breath hitch again.

“Stop,” Skye panted finally, and he obeyed at once, though he kept his finger deep inside, lifting his head a little, his blue eyes looking up at her face.

“Tell me what you want,” he requested huskily.

“Want you inside me,” she was almost desperate for it, to feel his strong, solid body over her, inside her, filling the emptiness inside her. “ _Please_.”

He’d already put the condom on, in the blur of movement when he removed the rest of his clothes, put a hand down to check it was secure now before easing up the bed to kneel between Skye’s legs. She licked at her lips, looking down at his cock, standing thick and proud, curving upwards, at his balls hanging full and heavy behind, reached out to caress over them, tickling lightly as her fingers cupped around them.

“ _Bože!_ ” Pietro hissed out, and then he hooked both elbows under Skye’s knees, spreading her wide and lifting her hips in the air, shuffling forward on his knees, his eyes locked on hers as he guided the tip of his arousal into her entrance.

Skye grabbed for Pietro’s hands, felt his strong fingers close reassuringly around hers as he leaned into her, pushing slowly deeper. He felt thick and incredibly hot inside her, even through the condom, and her lips parted on a sigh of his name.

Hearing Skye gasp out his name as he sank into her drove Pietro over the edge. Already clinging to restraint by the skin of his teeth, he lost his head entirely and shoved in to the hilt with one quick, rough thrust.

“Oh fuck yes!” Skye yelled out, gripping tightly to his hands, her back arching as she pushed back against him. “Like that, harder!”

Pietro was very far from averse to obeying that order. A tight smile stretched his lips as his lean hips snapped back and forth, giving Skye the deep, driving penetration she craved.

Skye could hardly move, with Pietro holding her hips in the air, his biceps muscle bulging thickly against her thighs as he thrust hard, skin drawing tight over his high cheekbones as his facial muscles tightened with stress. “Please,” she sobbed, thrashing her head from side to side, clenching her fingers tightly on his as she felt her body winding tighter, pulling up again towards that delicious edge.

He growled out an unintelligible stream of Sokovian, those deep blue eyes still locked with hers, and then, realising she didn’t understand him as her brow creased, tried again. “ _Skye_ ,” was all he could manage, though, and she understood, realised that he was as close to the edge as she was.

“Yes, now!” she begged, and Pietro gasped with relief, thrusting a few more times, hanging on until he felt her begin to clench around him, her mouth open in a long low wail of fulfilment, before he let go. He threw his head back in ecstasy, crying out, feeling the thick pulses of come spurt up his cock.

Slowly, they both stilled. Pietro gently eased Skye down to the bed, laying her legs down, bracing his hands on either side of her, leaning in to embrace her closely, press soft kisses against her mouth. Tiny aftershocks rippled through her muscles occasionally, each time making him catch his breath.

Skye blinked her eyes open vaguely. Pietro was cradling her in his arms, mumbling what she suspected were Sokovian endearments against her hair, kissing her cheek occasionally. Her whole body felt warm, soft, comfortable, _relaxed_ as she hadn’t in longer than she could recall. _Safe_. She finally managed to put a name to the feeling.

Gently, she stroked Pietro’s back until he lifted his head and looked down at her. “I am crushing you?” he asked.

“No,” she smiled up at him. “No, not at all.” He’d slipped from her as he softened, but she didn’t want to let him go, wanted to keep holding him close.

“So beautiful,” he said wonderingly, trailing the backs of his fingers gently down her cheek before kissing her again.

There were several more slow, tender kisses before Pietro sighed and got up, going quickly to the bathroom. Skye had slipped under the covers when he returned and he joined her, spooning up behind her, wrapping his arm tightly around her and rubbing his cheek against her hair, breathing in the soft scent of it, something faintly citrusy that soothed his senses.

“So what happens now?” Skye asked finally after several long minutes of quiet snuggling.

“Whatever you need,” Pietro said quietly. “I want to be with you, Skye, as much as our lives will permit. Wanda and I have committed to the Avengers; from what we have learned of your abilities, there would be a place for you there too.”

“Coulson wanted me to build a secret team of enhanced people,” Skye confessed, “like the Avengers, only undercover. Not in the public eye.”

“Hmm,” Pietro said, interested. “A Secret Avengers. I like that idea. But there is no reason why you could not work with us; train with us; be based at our facility. No one is permitted there other than our own people. Your team could remain, what is the word – covert?”

“I’d need to talk to Coulson about it,” Skye prevaricated, but she was already warming to the idea. There were too many people at SHIELD who were wary of the Inhumans; Mack had accepted them at last but there were many others who never would, especially not after Jiaying had tried to kill so many aboard the _Iliad_. Physically separating themselves from SHIELD, training with the Avengers; she knew Lincoln at least would jump at the chance.

Pietro felt a faint brush against his mind, a warning from Wanda. “We should go back,” he said regretfully. “They will be looking for us soon.”

Skye snuggled against his chest for a few moments more before nodding and getting up, but not until after they’d shared one more slow, passionate kiss.

They dressed and walked back to Coulson’s office hand in hand; arriving there they found the door open. Wanda looked around as they entered and gave Pietro a secretive little smile.

“Ah, Skye!” Coulson smiled happily at her. “Some really excellent news; the Avengers want your new team to live and train at their facility.”

Skye stared at him. Looked at Pietro, and then at Wanda, who was now wearing a sweetly innocent expression that Skye didn’t believe for a moment. She realised in a sudden flash of enlightenment that Pietro had already discussed how he could best be with Skye, not only with his sister but with the rest of the Avengers, and they had colluded to convince Coulson to agree with the plan.

Slowly she began to smile. “That sounds great, AC.”

**Sokovian (Serbian) translations:**

**_še_ ** **_ćeru – sugar_ **

**_zar ne?_ – _aren’t they?_ or _isn’t that right?_**

**_Bože! – God!_ **

**Note, Serbian is possibly the world’s most colourful language to swear in, I discovered when researching. I was going to have Pietro swear (something like, Fuck, you’re beautiful) but honestly the Serbian curses I found were so outrageous I couldn’t use any of them! This article contains a few of the (milder!) examples and broke me up laughing. http://www.ce-review.org/00/41/nezmah41.html**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Incidentally, I’m hearing that there was a deleted scene from AoU where Helen Cho does indeed bring Pietro back from the dead. Here’s hoping that clip makes it onto the Director’s Cut and then it will officially be canon! Sort of.**
> 
> **Next on the list to be written is Darcy/Gambit, as requested by cloerner, Spitfire 303, Slytherin’s Sweetheart, Carfaycor, amusewithaview, ValkyriePhoenix, Greennonmonster, MaeDae84 and crudnick. Apparently you all want a bit more spicy Cajun in your lives. Well, I live to please ;)**


	9. Darcy/Gambit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Continued from _[Chapter 122, Whose Side Are You On?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/8096793)_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Requested by cloerner, Spitfire 303, Slytherin’s Sweetheart, Carfaycor, amusewithaview, ValkyriePhoenix, Greennonmonster, MaeDae84 and crudnick.**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Remy/neck_zps788d33fd.jpg.html)

The elevator doors slid closed, trapping them in a silent box together. Remy reached out without looking and tapped a card against the authorisation panel; the elevator began to move swiftly upwards.

“Do you always wear sunglasses indoors?” Darcy felt the need to ask. “Is there – something wrong with your eyes?”

He sighed slightly, shrugged. “Dat’s a matter of opinion. Some people think dat there is something very wrong with my eyes, _cher_.” He didn’t remove the sunglasses, and she couldn’t see the shape of his eyes at all behind them. “I’ll show you, when we are in a private place.” His fingers flicked upwards, and she looked up to see a camera dome mounted in the corner of the elevator.

“I see.” She didn’t, but – he was her soulmate, and she was prepared to make all sort of allowances for oddness. God knew her life was pretty damn weird these days. Though – anyone who could make Clint and Nat react like that, had to be damn dangerous.

Remy moved a step closer, and Darcy didn’t give way, just tilted her chin up to look at him. He was tall, a good two of three inches clear of six feet, and broadly built. Darcy was hardly a waif but she felt very tiny and dainty beside him.

“You’re very lovely, _cher_ ,” he murmured huskily, in that outrageously sexy Cajun accent, and that alone probably should be classed as a dangerous weapon. Darcy had the strong suspicion that her panties were actually melting off as he spoke.

“You didn’t exactly fall out of the ugly tree yourself,” she tried to retort, annoyed by her voice coming out about an octave higher than normal. Damn, the man had a beautiful mouth, full pink lips stretching over even white teeth as he smiled. He moved closer again, bending his head, and the elevator doors pinged open.

“Damn,” Darcy said.

Remy smiled, placed a hand under her elbow to guide her out. There were three doors off a small hallway and he swiped his card through one of them, opened the door and gallantly gestured for Darcy to precede him inside.

It wasn’t the over-the-top luxury of the penthouse suite Tony had booked, but it was a very nice suite indeed, Darcy thought, looking around. And she suspected Remy had been staying here for some time; there were several books scattered around, a long black leather coat draped casually over the back of the couch, just small things that spoke of someone who’d made themselves comfortably at home.

“Do you live here?” she asked curiously, moving further into the room and looking around as Remy closed and locked the door behind them.

“For a while,” he shrugged. “I saved the management some money.”

It must have been a _lot_ of money. Darcy guessed the suite would probably run about five thousand dollars a night. If they were comping Remy here indefinitely… well, he had to be very skilled at his job. 

“Would you like a drink?” he moved over to the built-in bar, pulled out a bottle of bourbon. Darcy glanced at the label and almost choked. The _really_ good stuff.

“Sure!”

Remy smiled and poured into a pair of heavy, expensive-looking crystal tumblers. Picking them both up, he handed one to Darcy. “To finding my soulmate,” his voice was low and a little rough.

Darcy nodded, licking her lips a little nervously. “I’ll drink to that.” She sipped, sighed with pleasure. “Mm.”

Remy took her glass, set them both down on the bar. Darcy frowned in protest. “Hey!”

“I don’t want you to drop it with shock.” Slowly, he removed his sunglasses, set them down on the bar, and looked at her.

His eyes were – they were just _wrong_. The only place she’d ever seen eyes like that was on _Supernatural_ , Darcy thought. “Are you – are you a demon?” she asked shakily.

“ _Non_. Just a mutant, Darcy. My DNA has been mapped; I am full human, but with the X-gene.” He stood very still, allowing her to inspect his eyes closely.

They were black, midnight black, with a fiery red core where the pupil should be.

“Oh,” Darcy suddenly realised that she might know who he was. “Are you Cyclops, then?”

“No!” his full lips curled up, and he laughed. “My eyes don’t _do_ anything. They just look horrible.”

“I don’t know about horrible,” Darcy said fairly, “spooky, yeah, but – I could get used to it. So if you don’t shoot lasers with them, what’s your thing?”

She didn’t seem all that alarmed. He picked her glass up and handed it back, took a sip of his own, feeling the bourbon warm his throat. He’d feared she would run screaming when he showed her his eyes.

“My _thing_ is energy. Everything in the world has energy; I can access it, change its form.”

“O-kay,” Darcy said slowly, “you’re talking about potential energy and thermal energy and kinetic energy, right?”

“That’s right.” He twitched his wrist and a card was suddenly in his hand, appearing out of apparently nowhere.

Darcy’s eyebrows went up. “I see why you’re not allowed to gamble,” she said dryly.

Remy grinned at her. “I still make my living with the cards, Darcy.” Deep violet light began to glow around the card; he flicked it up in the air and it burst into flame. Ashes drifted to the floor.

“That’s a neat trick,” Darcy murmured, impressed.

“That was only using a tiny bit of the card’s potential energy. I’m a dangerous man, _cher_ , Barton and Romanoff no doubt told you that.”

“You’ve – fought them?”

“No. But they’ve seen me fight.” Remy shrugged. “They care about you, that’s obvious. They don’t want me near you.”

“It’s not their decision to make. And – I’m sure you’re my soulmate for a _reason_.”

He looked down at her, facing him fearlessly. How long had it been since he met someone who knew what he was, and didn’t fear him? And yet, there must be something truly special about this small, dark-haired girl. Barton and Romanoff wouldn’t have intervened if she wasn’t important to them, and they did not trust lightly, never mind offer their protection. He had the strong feeling that if he was foolish enough to mistreat Darcy, _all_ of the Avengers would be kicking his door down hell-bent on vengeance.

Not that he ever would mistreat her. He’d spent too long waiting for her, and she was lovely, his Darcy with her flowing dark locks and huge dark blue eyes behind her glasses. From his height he had an excellent view of one of the most spectacular cleavages he’d ever seen, too, though he’d been doing his level best to be a gentleman and keep his eyes on her face.

He was failing miserably. Especially when she folded her arms beneath that amazing bosom.

“My eyes are up here,” Darcy said pointedly. Even though his eyes were so odd, it was still quite possible to see where his gaze was directed.

“ _Je suis désolé!_ ” Remy snapped his gaze up, ran his hand through his long hair distractedly. “It’s just – you’re so _beautiful_ , I never expected – never dared to _hope_ you’d be so gorgeous…”

Darcy gaped at him, stunned. “ _What?_ ”

“You are _glorious_ , Darcy Lewis. Has no one ever told you that?” He lifted a large hand to her face, brushed gentle fingertips along the curve of her cheek. “You are – everything that has always appealed to me.” His voice had turned low and soft, lushly seductive as he moved closer.

 _He’s going to say something about my boobs_ , Darcy thought cynically.

“You’re so courageous.”

_Oh._

“Not one woman in a thousand would have stood and looked me in the eyes as you have done. You’re no fool, you’re wary and you’ve asked questions, but you haven’t let fear cloud your thoughts.” He was standing very close now, and bent closer, his lips almost brushing her ear. “You are a strong, beautiful woman – and you have no idea how much that turns me on.”

“It does?” Darcy had never been described as shy or retiring. She felt unaccountably nervous now, though, glancing up at him and finding him staring at her with a look of fierce intensity.

“ _Oui_. Very much.” His thumb skimmed lightly down her cheek again, brushed over her bottom lip. Darcy sucked in a shaky breath.

“You’d better kiss me then,” she said.

“ _Avec plaisir, cher_ ,” he whispered, and Darcy thought that she really should have paid a lot more attention that one time she was in Paris when Jane was giving a lecture. Only then she stopped thinking about anything French apart from kissing, as his hot mouth pressed on hers, tongue skilfully caressing her parted lips, one big hand sliding into her hair at the back of her head, the other landing on the small of her back to hold her close.

Well the man sure as hell knew how to kiss, plundering her mouth with a slow, teasing thoroughness that made Darcy want to rip his clothes off and drag him down on the couch. He was wearing a black waistcoat and dress pants, a royal-blue shirt under the waistcoat which she discovered was silk as her clutching hands landed on his arms. Very nicely muscled arms as well, from what she could feel. She squeezed his bicep approvingly.

Remy felt almost dizzy with need. Darcy’s hair, soft against his cheek, smiled wonderful, like almonds and chocolate, her soft mouth greedy as she kissed him back, small hands on his body driving him wild even through his clothes. Her nails dug lightly into his arm and he groaned into her mouth, his hand on her back drifting down to her ass, and what an ass it was, rounded and firm as he cupped a buttock and lifted her against him.

It was Darcy’s turn to moan as their groins met and she felt how hard he was through the layers of their clothing. Pulling her head back, she attacked the buttons of his shirt and waistcoat; startled for a moment, Remy was soon helping, unfastening his cuffs and shrugging the garments off, dropping them carelessly on the floor.

“Gah,” Darcy made a strangled noise in her throat, reached up to touch Remy’s muscled chest with light, wondering fingers. He was built like an Olympic swimmer, all broad shoulders and chiselled, lean muscle, his skin a pale golden tan. He actually _rippled_ as his arms went back around her, and then he was backing her up until her calves hit the couch, guiding her down to her back and coming down atop her, his mouth seeking hers again.

Now, Darcy had all that delicious torso to explore, tracing her fingertips along ridges of muscle, Remy making needy sounds as she touched him, learning the texture of his skin. Finding the tiny nub of one of his nipples, she played with it for a minute or two, until he lifted his head.

“Darcy…” his strange eyes searched hers. “We should stop.”

“Why?” she blinked up at him, bemused. “You’re my soulmate. You – aren’t involved with anyone else, are you?” _he could well be_ , she realised sickly – but no, he was shaking his head.

“No. I just – I do not want you to think that I don’t respect you, _p’tite_.”

Her fingers were still drawing small circles on his chest. Remy swallowed, reached up to still her hands. “Darcy. Stop.”

“Only if you really want me to,” Darcy replied. “I mean, I get that no means no and I’m not gonna force you…”

That startled a bark of laughter from him. “Oh, _cher_ , there would be no force required, I assure you.”

“Excellent, why don’t you get your pants off, then?”

“Mm-hm.” He made no move to get off her. “Is it just me gettin’ naked, then, or are you joining this party?”

“I could,” Darcy said, a bit shyly. She didn’t have a _bad_ figure, if your tastes ran to Marilyn Monroe types with spectacular bosoms, but – compared to Remy’s chiselled perfection, she had the sinking feeling that she was just going to look pale and flabby.

“I should very much like that, _cher_.” His voice had gone low and husky again. “And perhaps we should adjourn this to the bedroom, in that case?”

“I could go for that,” Darcy agreed. Not that the couch wasn’t nice and all, but she had the feeling that this was going to be the kind of messy, energetic sex that would be much, much better on a nice spacious bed.

Remy moved off her smoothly, and to Darcy’s surprise, bent and scooped her up easily, bridal style. She flailed. “Oh, don’t, I’m too heavy…” she wasn’t exactly an eighty-five-pound waif like Jane.

Remy snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He did indeed seem to be carrying her without apparent effort, and Darcy added _more than normal human strength_ to the list of things that were extraordinary about him. He turned sideways gracefully to avoid knocking her head on the doorframe and then laid her down gently on a _very_ large bed.

“Nice,” Darcy approved, immediately starting to wriggle out of her clothes. Remy stayed her hands.

“Allow me. Please.”

Darcy shrugged, aware of his eyes on her breasts, very glad that she’d taken the time after arrival to shower and change into a nice outfit before they hit the gaming areas. All she’d done so far was undo the top two buttons of her blouse – hence Remy’s stare, since the top of her lacy black balconette bra was now visible, plump creamy flesh spilling from the cups. Again he surprised her, though, not going straight for her boobs, instead moving down to remove her shoes, stroke his fingers lightly up her stockinged calves to the hem of her pencil skirt.

“You have a beautiful figure,” he murmured softly. “Like an old-fashioned pinup girl, all curves and sweetness.”

“Well, I’m a thoroughly modern girl,” Darcy said, “so I’m gonna ask you now if you have protection?”

“ _Certainement_.” He didn’t blink, just reached for the nightstand, pulled out an unopened box of condoms. “These will be sufficient?”

Darcy grinned. “I dunno. It’s only a three pack. How’s your staying power?”

Remy threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Ah, Darcy!” he said when he recovered. “Concierge service will bring more – _when_ we require them.” His fingers were still tracing slow circles on her calves, slid under the hem of the skirt to glide over the back of her knees. Darcy shivered as he hit a sensitive spot.

“Hmm?” Remy’s eyelids lowered, only a faint gleam of red visible. Long fingers moving higher – and then he stuttered as he felt the lacy band of her stockings. “Oh, _cher_ ,” he murmured.

Darcy wiggled her hands down behind her, popped the button of her skirt, eased the zip down. “Take it off,” she suggested, lifting her hips, and Remy obeyed with alacrity, sighing with pleasure as her underwear was revealed, black lace garter belt and thong panties that matched her bra.

“ _Delicieux_. Did you hope to get lucky tonight, _cher_? Or do you just like the way these things feel on your skin?”

“Maybe a bit of both?” Darcy confessed. His hands were never still, stroking lightly over the bared flesh at the top of her thighs, finally reaching up to unbutton her blouse as well, working from the waist up. “Though I never thought I’d get _this_ lucky.”

The only part of him she could reach at the moment was his hands and forearms; she stroked over them, catching his hands in hers, tugging one to her mouth and sucking his long index finger between her lips, pursing them deliberately, hollowing her cheeks and swirling the tip of her tongue against the underside of his finger. She was rewarded by a lusty snarl from Remy and his free hand settling on her breast, moulding and squeezing through her bra.

“Where are your words?” Remy demanded, his voice thick. He wanted to see them, wanted to see the proof that she was _his_ , there on her pale skin.

For answer, Darcy let his finger out of her mouth with a pop, and rolled over.

“ _Mon Dieu!_ ” What a magnificent ass she had, plumply rounded milky pale globes framed beautifully by the black lace underwear – and right there, boldly stamped on her right ass cheek, four words in his flamboyant scrawl. _Now now, be nice_. Gently, he laid his hand over the words.

“Harder,” Darcy said cheekily, twisting to look back over her shoulder at him.

“What?” Remy blinked.

“Do I have to spell it out? You put your hand on my ass too gently. Do it harder.”

“Ah,” a slow smile broke out across his handsome face. “You really _aren’t_ a nice girl, are you?”

“Would you want one?” Darcy was quite confident of the answer.

“ _Non_ ,” it came quickly and definitively. He reached to catch the collar of her blouse, drew it back. Darcy slipped her arms out obediently and he tossed it aside, unclipping her bra next, before leaning in and kissing all the way down her spine, from the nape of her neck to the small of her back just above the garter belt, his mouth hot and knowing, his hand never moving off her ass. Goosebumps sprang up on Darcy’s skin and she shivered.

“Cold, _cher_?”

“No,” she whispered, heard his husky chuckle in response, and then his hand lifted and came back down again in a sharp _crack_.

“Oh God.” Darcy had to squeeze her thighs together tightly. “Again,” she panted.

“Once more today, _cher_ , once only. I don’t want your ass so sore I can’t fuck you as much as I want,” Remy promised darkly, and his hand cracked down again.

The moan Darcy made went straight to his already aching cock. Remy tried to discipline himself to be patient, but she was just too beautiful, too tempting and lovely with his handprint reddening around the black words on her ass.

Mumbling under his breath in French, Remy slid down and pressed kisses all over the soft pink flesh, his fingers playing with the lacy band at the top of her stockings, easing Darcy’s legs apart so gently she didn’t even notice he was doing it, until his fingers were suddenly pressing against her core. Very wet and very aroused, Darcy moaned as deft fingers worked the lace aside, stroked over her folds, lightly at first and then firmer, though he never touched her clit. She rolled her hips, trying to get his hand where she wanted it.

“Tease!” she mumbled into the pillow. He nipped her ass cheek.

“I’ll give you what you want, my Darcy,” Remy murmured against her skin. “Just enjoying a little build-up first.”

His voice, his _accent_ ; that alone could probably get her off. Helplessly aroused, Darcy made frantic little noises into the pillow as his fingers slid through increasing wetness, chafing and rubbing, exploring her most sensitive spots. In the end she could take it no more, twisting over frantically, throwing her bra aside as it fell away from her breasts, reaching out to Remy.

“Please!” she cried out, and gasped as the red in his eyes flared bright. He said nothing, though, just drew her panties down over the garters and stockings slowly, stripping them from her. Took his time unhooking the stockings and peeling them off, removing the garter belt, until at last she lay completely nude on the bed, a feast laid out before him.

“ _Tout à fait magnifique_ ,” Remy muttered hoarsely; he’d never seen anything as beautiful as Darcy, her dark hair tumbling over the white pillows, her curvaceous body lushly tempting, the look in her blue eyes inviting.

It was _very_ sexy when he apparently forgot how to speak English, especially looking at her like _that_. Darcy held her arms out welcomingly – and because she wanted to touch him, _hot damn_ that man was _fine_. _Her_ man. She was still having trouble believing it, even considering his reaction to the words on her ass. Which was a point.

“Where are your words?” she asked, after a very long and thorough kiss. Though she suspected she knew, given the positioning of hers. While she had no objection to doggy style, it was a shame, she’d rather be facing him…

“Here,” Remy tapped the front of his left thigh. “You’ll need to be sitting on my lap, _cher_.”

Once again, he surprised her. And oh God, the thought of being in his lap, facing him as he fucked up into her roughly – Darcy licked her lips.

“Yes, please.”

Remy growled hungrily, and then he grabbed for his belt, undoing it quickly and shoving off his pants and shorts, kicking his shoes and socks off impatiently. Darcy handed him the condom box with a grin and he ripped it open quickly.  “I didn’t want to rush this,” he muttered, grabbing a foil packet.

Darcy smirked, reaching out to stroke his cock as he tore the packet open. He was very nicely made, long and curving slightly, hot and thick under her hand, twitching a little as she wrapped her hand around him and jerked gently. “Well _I’m_ in a hurry to feel this inside me, Remy.”

She was pretty sure that what he said in French then wouldn’t translate into English, and wouldn’t be repeatable if he did. Pushing her hand away, he rolled the condom on hastily, then sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for her. “Come sit in my lap then, my beautiful Darcy,” he requested hoarsely, and she lost no time in straddling his muscular thighs, catching a glimpse of her squiggly writing on his left thigh before her leg covered it.

“ _Tu me rends fou_ ,” Remy groaned, his big hands coming up to her breasts, the soft flesh overspilling his fingers, “ _tu es tellement alléchante, ma belle_ Darcy…”

She had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but the husky, needy tone of his voice, the almost reverent way he was looking at her, even while his hands played with her breasts, teasing her nipples – it all combined to madden her with lust, and she dropped her hands between them, seizing his cock and holding it still, bracing her feet on the floor and tilting her hips forward.

“You’re ready?” Remy asked huskily, dropping his hands to her butt to support her as Darcy eased his tip gently inside her.

“I’ve been ready for this since the fucking _elevator_ ,” she grinned at him, pushing down slowly, her breath shortening to quick little pants, because while she was wet, he was _big_ , and the stretch was a little overwhelming.

“ _Si êtroit!_ ” Remy groaned, “Easy, _ma belle_. Slow.”

She’d already concluded that was necessary, stopped moving for a moment. His strong hands on her hips lifted her a fraction, lowered her again, repeated the movement until her slick eased the way, her body stretching to accommodate him.

“Unnn,” Darcy had to drop her forehead on Remy’s shoulder, her arms going around him to hold on tight.

“Does it feel good, Darcy?” he growled in her ear, nuzzling his face against her hair, sinking a little deeper into her tight, wet tunnel.

“Oh God yes,” she panted, her nails digging into his back. “More. Remy, please, _more_!”

“ _Tout à toi_ ,” he groaned into her hair, “it’s all for you, Darcy, all – oh, _mon Dieu_ , so good, you feel _so_ good.”

She felt stuffed full, and still she could tell he wasn’t fully inside her. She tried to push down, but with his hands under her ass she had no leverage. “Please,” she begged instead against his shoulder, “ _please_.”

Remy groaned, Darcy’s soft pleas driving him to the edge of madness. He slipped his right hand out from under her, lifted it to slide into her hair, tugging gently, making Darcy moan again until he kissed her, swallowing her cries as she slid the last little way down onto him.

Had she thought she was full before? Darcy could hardly breathe now, Remy’s thick, long cock stretching her, her legs spread wide over his. The only thing separating their soulmarks now was his hand, and she tried to shove at his arm, telling him wordlessly to move it. He didn’t, so she bit at his lip instead.

“Wait,” he mumbled against her mouth, “not yet…” His hips were pumping slowly, steady little thrusts that were doing ridiculously wonderful things to her insides.

“ _Yes_ fucking _now_!” Darcy pulled back and yelled. She was _so_ close, right on the edge, right _there_ …

Remy felt tiny shudders begin to race through her, sleek muscles suddenly convulsing around his cock. Darcy’s back arched, and instinctively he pulled his hand from under her butt, putting it to the small of her back to support her.

Their soulmarks met as Darcy’s ass settled on Remy’s thighs.

A cry wrenched out of Remy along with his orgasm, his hips jerking helplessly as hot spurts pulsed up his cock, Darcy sobbing and writhing against him as her own orgasm went on and _on_. Her nails scored his back, but he didn’t even notice; later Darcy would look at the dried blood under her fingernails and feel first sheepish – and then utterly confused when there wasn’t a mark on his back.

It was a long time before either of them were able to speak, both lost in the wonder of the new bond that had forged between them. Darcy was utterly awed by the impression of _age_ she got from Remy’s mind; he was definitely a whole lot older than he looked. And he in turn was fascinated by the way she saw the world, the _brightness_ of her impressions, the _depth_ with which she felt.

Wrapped in each other’s arms, they clung together until their breathing steadied, their heartbeats slowed. Remy’s big hand moved slowly, stroking gentle circles on Darcy’s back.

“Are you all right, _cher_?” he asked softly at last.

“Mm,” was all the reply Darcy could manage right then. He chuckled deep in his chest, pressed a kiss to the side of her head and lifted her gently off him, laying her down on the bed.

She hadn’t moved when he returned from the bathroom a couple of minutes later, and he didn’t hesitate before lying down beside her and pulling her back into his arms. Darcy nestled against him happily, and they lay in silent contentment for a long time.

Eventually Darcy lifted her head, propped her chin on his hands and looked at him. “Remy?”

“Yes, _cher_?” he said lazily.

“How much money do you reckon we could win before the casinos ban me too?”

 

_Je suis désolé – I’m sorry_

_Avec plaisir – with pleasure_

_Certainement – certainly, of course_

_Tout à fait magnifique – utterly magnificent_

_Tu me rends fou – you drive me crazy_

_tu es tellement alléchante, ma belle – you’re so very tempting (enticing), my beautiful_

_Si êtroit – (you’re) so tight_

_Tout à toi – all yours_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **LOTS of money, Darcy. LOTS.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Skye/Rollins is next up, LOADS of people are looking forward to this one apparently, requests have been made by dwyn 5002, Brenda, Lula, ashtreeowl, Princess PrettyPants, Daylights, Elliesmeow,  tj47,  EllaC., Liles217, pretzel_logic, Annie, Lia, jvestaj and Kat.**
> 
>   **Now if you like the way I write Gambit, you might want to check out the[little drabble](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4322178/chapters/9800022) I wrote this afternoon following a [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/ozhawkauthor) prompt. It's a Reader Insert, which is not normally my bag, but hey, the point of asking people to challenge you on Tumblr is to write out of your comfort zone, right? Hope you enjoy, anyway! ******


	10. Skye/Rollins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Follows on from[ _Chapter 144, Our Own Little Family_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/9179227)– and yes, this too will be part of STRIKE Team Uncles.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As requested by dwyn 5002, Brenda, Lula, ashtreeowl, Princess PrettyPants, Daylights, Elliesmeow,  tj47,  EllaC., Liles217, pretzel_logic, Annie, Lia, jvestaj and Kat.**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/rollins_zpszdsmaoox.jpg.html)

Jack’s mouth was hot and hungry, his arms powerful as he lifted her off her feet. Skye moaned as his tongue stroked over hers, wrapped her legs around his waist and dug her fingernails into his shoulders, urging him on as he pushed her against the wall and ground against her fiercely. His tongue thrust hard into her mouth, one big hand came up to grope at her breast, she made a frantic, hungry little noise – and he dropped her and stepped back, a sudden look of horror on his face.

“Christ, I’m so sorry!”

Barely managing to stay on her feet, Skye blinked up at him, bemused. “What for?”

“I practically attacked you – Skye, I’ve no excuse. I’m sorry.” He looked pained, scrubbing at his short dark hair with his big hands.

“I think you’ve got quite a lot of excuse, actually,” she disagreed, “’because first, you’ve been in solitary confinement for how long? Over a year, since you had any real human contact?”

“That’s no excuse…”

“Perhaps not, but second is the fact that we’re _soulmates_. That’s a pull that’s hard to resist for anyone, never mind someone as touch-deprived as you must be. And lastly, you’re not taking into account that I wanted that every bit as much as you did.”

“You – did?” He blinked at her.

“Hell, yeah.” She moved towards him, closing the distance he’d created between them, put her hand lightly on his arm, tilted her head back to look him in the eyes. The prosthesis was so good she genuinely couldn’t tell which eye was the real one, they were perfectly matched in colour, a lovely dark green shade.

“It’s been a long time for me too, Jack,” Skye said gently, “and – well, I saw pictures of you before we met and thought you were hot; you’re even sexier in person.” Reaching up, she traced the scar on his chin with a gentle finger. “I want you,” she whispered it, keeping her eyes on his, “to do every filthy thing you’ve ever fantasised about to me.”

“ _Fuck_ , Skye,” Jack said hoarsely.

“We can start with that, sure.” She walked her fingers along his forearm, around the bend of his elbow, up to fondle his bicep swelling thickly, stretching the sleeve of his T-shirt. Mack had provided some clothes for him; no one else’s would have come close to fitting Jack’s tall, powerful form. “We could start with you taking this off before I decide to rip it off,” she plucked at the edge of the sleeve.

Jack stood undecided for a moment, huge fists clenched at his sides. “Give me a safe word,” he said at last, “something you can say to stop me, if I’m being too rough.”

“You won’t be…”

“A safe word, or we do nothing else.” He loomed over her, darkly massive, his expression implacable.

Skye thought about it. He probably really could hurt her unintentionally if he got too rough, not that she thought he would. She’d need a word that would jerk him back to his senses. There was one obvious choice. “Would it be okay if I used _Casey_ as the safe word?” she asked uncertainly.

“Good choice,” Jack nodded. “That’ll snap me right out of it.”

“Okay then.” Skye grabbed hold of the front of his T-shirt, fisted her hand in it, took a step back, tugging on him gently. “The bedroom’s this way.” She’d made the bed up herself a couple of days ago, put simple toiletries in the bathroom for him. He smelled like the soap she’d bought, sandalwood, though there was an additional scent that was distinctly _Jack_ , dark and spicy. He followed her willingly to the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

Skye had been relaxing in her room when Jack came to collect her, already showered and changed after the day. She wore only her sleeping outfit, a spaghetti-strap tank and yoga pants, a zippered hoodie over the top because the Playground wasn’t very warm. Backing up to the bed, she caught hold of the zipper and tugged it down, holding Jack’s eyes, watching as his lips parted. He licked them slowly, staring as the zipper parted and Skye slid the hoodie off, tossing it to a chair.

_Christ_ but she was beautiful. Skye was right, he was touch-starved, but it had been a _very_ long time since he’d been intimate with anyone; he’d learned to suppress the urges. Casey’s mother was his last (brief) relationship, and he’d never met a woman he’d thought could be a loving mother to his daughter before. Not until Skye, whose name had been every other word out of Casey’s mouth today.

Skye was watching him, her dark brown eyes calm and steady. Waiting for him to make the next move. Jack pulled off his T-shirt.

“Holy macaroni!” Skye’s eyes widened. “Well, you sure as hell didn’t let yourself go in prison, did you?”

He looked down, made a face. “My endurance is probably gone to shit. Couldn’t exactly get in my five miles a day. And prison food was pretty crappy. They didn’t really cater for a guy my size, either. But yeah, I did what I could.” Which, he didn’t tell Skye, was push-ups, crunches, handstand presses, squats, T’ai Ch’i and any other movements he could think of that he could do using his own body in a limited space.

He didn’t have to tell her. It was pretty damn obvious. His torso was massive and chiselled to perfection, all rock-hard muscles. Dark hair curled across his chest, tapered to a fine happy trail down to his waist. Skye couldn’t help but move closer, reach out to touch him. His skin felt hot under her hand, though he was pale from lack of sunlight. He was scarred, too, a couple of long white lines across his ribs she guessed were knife cuts, a puckered wound on the front of his left shoulder which matched almost exactly the two on her stomach.

“When were you shot?” Skye’s fingers were very gentle as they moved over the scar.

“A long time ago.” He could hardly breathe, with the way her touch affected him. “Iraq. When I was still with the Rangers, before SHIELD. I was lucky, it missed anything vital, went straight through.” He turned to show her the bigger exit wound scar on his back.

Skye had to stand on tiptoe to press her lips to the scar. She heard Jack draw in a soft hiss of breath, and then he turned back around, put a thickly muscled arm around her. “You’ve seen bullet wounds before.” It wasn’t a question.

“I was shot twice, on orders of Agent John Garrett, who turned out to be HYDRA,” Skye admitted. “They were trying to trick Coulson into revealing where SHIELD got the drug that brought him back from the dead.”

“Is Garrett dead?” Jack’s voice was a low, dangerous snarl.

“Very, very dead,” Skye promised.

“Good.” His other hand came up, cupped her cheek, his broad thumb stroking gently. “I really don’t like the thought of anyone hurting you,” he said softly, gazing into her eyes. “Anyone wants to hurt you, they’re gonna have to go through me.”

Her hands on his massive chest, Skye smiled up at him. “I’m suspecting that would probably take a battle tank.”

“Pshaw,” Jack sneered and then grinned, “I’ve blown up one or two of those in my time.”

That made Skye giggle, and Jack pulled her closer still, moving over to the bed and sitting down, tugging her gently down to sit sideways on his lap. “You ain’t wearin’ anything under this, are you?” One thick finger flicked lightly at the thin strap of her top.

“Why don’t you look and find out?” Skye challenged wickedly, her hands busy investigating his chest, learning the shape of him, the heavy smooth muscle under his skin, the curled hair crisp against her fingers. Leaning against him, she kissed along his collarbone, nibbled at the base of his throat. His pulse leapt under her tongue.

Jack’s hand tightened around the strap, and for a moment Skye thought he might rip it away, but he took a deep breath and made himself let go, reaching instead for the hem of her top, lifting it slowly. Skye raised her arms to help him take it off, and then they were both topless.

“I’m kinda small,” she mumbled a bit sheepishly. “Think your boobs are probably bigger than mine.”

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” he disagreed thickly, reaching to touch her breasts almost reverently. Her nipples stiffened as his fingers trailed over them, and Jack made a low, hungry sound deep in his chest. Unable to resist, he toppled them both backwards onto the bed, rolling partly on top of Skye, kissing around her breasts hungrily before capturing one pouting nipple in his mouth, twisting his tongue around it and suckling hard.

“Ahhh,” his big hand was between her shoulder blades, lifting her up towards him, and Skye arched up further, her hands grabbing his head and holding him to her. “Unnnn, oh _Jack_.”

He pulled off her nipple slowly and went for the other, treating it to equal attention as his huge hand moved down her stomach, slipped gently inside the waistband of her yoga pants. Skye’s breathing hitched.

“This okay, darling?” he whispered against her chest.

“Yuhhh,” was all she managed to get out, her nails scritching in his short-clipped hair as she held him to her breast. His hand was _massive_ , thick, long fingers coarse against her skin, the friction as his fingertips edged lower making her shudder. She parted her thighs willingly, lifting her hips against his hand, and Jack made a low rumbling sound, before his fingers eased in and curved slowly.

“Oh, fu…” he rested his brow against Skye’s shoulder a moment, had to take deep breaths. Because she was _soaking_ , slick fluids coating his fingers instantly, her slight body quivering as his fingertips grazed over her clit. He’d been hard since before he kissed her – if he was going to be completely honest, he’d been hard since he saw her bending over Casey to kiss his daughter goodnight, had been reproaching himself for eyeing her delightfully pert little bottom and fantasising about holding her slender hips in his hands while he fucked into her hard. He’d tried to write it off to his long period of abstinence, and once he realised she was his soulmate tried to stop feeling so guilty about it. The attraction between them was as powerful as it was inevitable.

Right now, though, Jack was struggling. He was too strung out, too desperate; he hadn’t even permitted himself the release of masturbating in prison, revolted by the thought of being watched on camera. It was one of the few things he could still control, could still keep private, and he chose to do exactly that. But it meant it had been a long, long time since his last release, and frankly he’d fully intended to take a hot shower after Casey went to sleep and jerk himself off until his knees wouldn’t hold him up.  

Jack’s breath was harsh against her shoulder, his whole body quivering, and Skye realised how close to the edge he was. His hand had stilled, and she reached down and caught his wrist, tugged gently until he slid his hand out of her pants.

“Shh,” she whispered softly when he made a strangled noise. “Shh, Jack. Lay back.”

He rolled to his back obediently, grunting with strain. “Skye, I… I’m trying…”

“Shh,” he wasn’t wearing a belt, so it was the work of a few seconds for her to unfasten his pants and slip her hand inside. “It’s all right, Jack. Let go. We’ve got all the time in the world.” Easing his pants and shorts down, she freed his cock, her eyes widening at the sight; he was definitely proportional, thick and long, flushed almost purple, pre-cum leaking in a steady stream from the slit.

“Oh God,” Jack almost whimpered as her slender hands closed around him, “Skye – fuck – oh _fuuuuck_!”

It took only a couple of quick strokes, both hands wrapped around his swollen shaft, and Jack was coming, thick white stripes of cum painting his broad chest, his hips bucking, hands clawing at the sheet beneath him. Skye gentled her strokes, but continued to smooth her hands over his cock until it softened in her grip and Jack groaned, one huge hand lifting to caress her hair.

“I’m so sorry…”

“What the hell for?” Skye asked, bemused.

Jack struggled to open his eyes. “I – just made myself look like a teenage boy with his first crush?”

Skye grinned, letting him out of her hands at last, getting up and going into the bathroom. She came back a moment later with a damp washcloth, leaned over Jack to wipe at his chest. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“Ugh,” Jack grumbled, taking the cloth from her hand and wiping the mess off himself. “I wanted to make sure you came first.”

Chuckling quietly, Skye settled back onto the bed beside him. “We can take it in turns. Doesn’t have to be _ladies first_ , you know. I’m a modern girl.”

Discarding the cloth off the side of the bed, Jack rolled to his side and looked at Skye. She lay completely unself-conscious about her topless state, smiling lovingly at him, her dark brown hair tumbling across the pillow. “Maybe it’s for the best,” he said finally, “I can take my time, concentrate on _you_ now.”

“Well,” Skye lowered her lashes and peeped at him coquettishly, “that _might_ have been an idea that figured into my decision-making process.”

“Mm,” Jack’s eyes drifted down across her. “You are really incredibly beautiful,” he said in tones of quiet wonder. “What the hell did I do to get this lucky?”

Skye smiled, looking down a little shyly. “I’m thinking _I’m_ the lucky one.” She reached out, ghosted her fingertips lightly across his sculpted chest. “’Cause you’re sexy as hell.”

He smiled, pleased, reached out and pulled her close, tangling his fingers in her hair and kissing her thoroughly. He kissed wonderfully, a sensual assault on her mouth that soon had Skye wriggling against him, hungry for more, but he seemed content to just make out. Eventually she pulled her head back and gave him a stern look.

“You aren’t the only one who’s been celibate for a while, you know.”

Jack snickered quietly. “Want something, do you?”

“An orgasm would be nice. Of course, if you don’t think you can deliver, I can take care of it myself,” Skye gave him arched eyebrows and a cheeky smile.

“Hm. While I would really fucking love to watch you take care of it yourself, I think I’d rather handle it for you.” He ran his hand down her back, tugged her yoga pants down over her ass. “But you’re only asking for _one_? I was planning on giving you _several_.” His tone was as teasing as her own had been.

“Well, if you insist,” Skye said with an affected little sigh, and he rumbled out his deep laugh and slid down the bed, pulling her pants the rest of the way down and off, lifting one thigh and hooking it over his shoulder, massive hands clamping down firmly on her hips to hold her in place.

“Oh,” he whispered against her inner thigh, pressing soft kisses as he worked his way up, “I think I _must_ insist, darling girl.” He blew softly on her neatly trimmed pubes, smiled as Skye shivered. She smelled good, fresh and sweet, soft pink petals glistening with her slick. Delicately he traced his tongue along the edges of her labia before pressing his face in and lapping at her clit.

“Ahhh, hmmm, yeah!” Skye made small sounds in her throat, putting her hands to his head and stroking, scratching lightly at his scalp. He knew what he was doing with his mouth, eating her out with enthusiasm, making greedy murmuring sounds as he slurped and sucked. She could feel the orgasm coming like a freight train, momentum gathering and bearing down fast. “Jack,” she moaned, and he lapped faster. “Oh _yesss_.”

Skye’s small body jerked and shivered, her thigh and stomach muscles going completely taut. Fresh juices flooded into Jack’s mouth and he lapped them up thirstily, already knowing that he’d never be able to get enough of this, of tasting Skye, of hearing her moan his name as she came.

He kept lapping gently until she moaned and pushed at his head. “Too… sensitive,” she managed to get out, and he immediately desisted, moving to kiss a slow, wet trail up over her stomach and play with her pretty breasts again. He lavished attention on them, kissing and stroking, squeezing her nipples lightly in his strong fingers, tonguing them hotly until Skye was writhing under him, making little sounds of arousal again.

“Jack,” she whimpered his name, her slender hands clutching at his shoulders. Mouth full, Jack only smiled around her breast and slipped a hand between her legs again. Skye bucked a little under him, and let out a little cry when the movement made one thick finger slide a little way inside her. She wriggled desperately, trying to push him deeper, but the heel of his hand was pressed firmly against her pubic bone, holding her still.

“Please!” she moaned at last, “please, more, I _need_ it.”

He let her nipple out of his mouth, looked up at her. “You’re tight, darling. Been a while, has it?”

“Yes. M-more than a year – nearly two – God, _yes_!” as his finger slid deeper. “Oh, _Jack_ ,” it was a low keen as he crooked his finger gently, stroking lightly inside her. “Get – get a condom. _Please_.”

“Haven’t got any,” he said regretfully, “but it’s okay, I had my fun, I’m gonna spend the rest of the night gettin’ you off, darling girl, don’t you worry about me.”

“Jack.” Skye had to take a deep breath, try to focus. But what his finger was doing inside her felt _so_ good, and _oh_ , now he’d added a _second_. She groaned, bit her tongue. “Jack!” she tried again. “First aid kit. Bathroom. Standard issue. Condoms!” She knew he was hard again, she could feel him pressed against her knee as he lay against her side. And she wanted, more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life, to feel him inside her, over her, his green eyes looking down at her while he fucked her out of her mind.

“ _Really_ ,” Jack murmured, a sudden rush of blood to his arousal making him harden still further. “In that case, sure. In a moment.” And he added a third finger to the two already inside Skye, his thumb moving to rub slow, sure circles over her clit.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck, _there_ , please, don’t stop!” Skye’s voice was almost a wail, her hips rolling frantically, and he gave her exactly what she wanted, speeding up the movements of his hand a little, sighing with pleasure as he felt sleek muscles suddenly spasming around his fingers.

“That’s it, darling girl,” he whispered against her breast, kissing her soft skin. “That’s it.” He slowed his hand, waited until she began to relax before withdrawing it slowly, moving up to kiss her lips gently before rolling off the bed and heading for the bathroom.

He’d forgotten that the standard SHIELD first aid kit contained condoms. And yes, there was one in the cupboard under the basin. Scrabbling it open with shaking fingers, Jack grabbed the strip of foil packets – three, good, he was pretty sure he was going to need _at least_ that many tonight, if Skye was willing – and hurried back to bed.

Skye was just languidly opening her eyes, turning her head to look for him. Seeing him returning from the bathroom with condoms in hand she smiled lazily. “Good, get one of those on and come fuck me,” she demanded.

“Never gonna say no to that offer,” he sat down on the bed, reclined against the pillows, tore the foil. Skye rolled to her side and reached between his thighs, cupping his balls in her fingers and rubbing her thumb against the base of his shaft as he rolled the condom on. Jack gave a low growl and reached for her, pushing her down to her back and settling between her legs. “This okay?” he checked softly.

“Oh hell yeah,” Skye lifted her knees to his hips, trying to pull him up against her. Jack grinned, leaning down to kiss her.

“You’re a demanding little madam.”

“Why yes, I am,” Skye gave him wide, innocent eyes, and he chuckled quietly and reached down, grasping his cock and positioning his tip at her entrance.

“Fucking gorgeous, too,” Jack muttered it thickly, eyes holding hers as he pushed slowly forward.

Skye’s mouth opened in a breathless shout as he eased his way in, rocking his hips in short, unhurried thrusts. Even though he was taking it slowly, gently, he felt massive, stretching her in a way that was almost uncomfortable at first.

“Easy,” Jack was watching her eyes. “Easy, Skye. Relax.” He stroked her stomach gently, slipped a finger down to stroke at her clit. She panted, lifting her knees higher, spreading herself wider for him. “ _Unh_ , you feel so good,” he had to close his eyes a moment, lean down to put his forehead against hers while he caught his breath. The respite was good, though, because by the time he felt in control again, she’d softened around him, was pressing her heels on his ass as she urged him deeper.

“Please, Jack,” Skye begged frantically. His finger was just pressing on her clit, not hard, just enough to make her crave more, and his hard cock half-way inside her was maddening her further. “ _Please_.”

“I got you,” he rasped, lifting his head, looking down at her, at her brown eyes glazed with lust, her hair tangled and sweaty around her face, her chest flushed all the way down to her beautiful breasts with arousal. “I got you, darling. Christ, you’re so fucking lovely…” His hips began to pump faster, taking longer thrusts, Skye’s slick easing his way deep inside her until finally they came together fully.

“Jack!” Skye yelled as he withdrew almost completely before shoving all the way back in. She clung onto him tightly, legs wrapped around him, hands clutching at his broad back as he thrust hard into her. “Yes! Now! Oh God! Fuck! Ahhh!”

She was a screamer, his Skye, and he fucking loved it, loved hearing her loud cries as he buried himself deep inside her willing body over and over again. He planted both hands on the bed on either side of her head, braced his knees and feet against the mattress and thrust harder, hearing the pitch of Skye’s shrieks increase as he rutted into her.

She’d never been fucked so hard, so _thoroughly_ ; it was wonderful. And there was nothing she could do but hang on for the ride of her life. Jack was a heated mass of rippling muscle above her, sweat beginning to dampen his back as his hips snapped back and forth. He groaned deep in his chest, kissed her roughly, and Skye felt, once again, the heat beginning to build in her groin, washing insidiously through her body.

“Please,” she whined, “please, please, please, oh don’t stop, Jack, _yes_!”

Hearing her say his name finished him. “ _Skye_ ,” he gritted out, feeling his swollen balls pull up tight to his body. “Oh, darling, _uhhhhh_!”

The sudden flood of heat inside her, the feel of his cock swelling and spurting, sent Skye spiralling over the edge. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her vision whited out, her mouth opened in a silent scream as her walls clenched tight, milking him for every last drop. She barely heard Jack’s low moans of her name, his gasped endearments, as her orgasm went on and on. At last it was over, tapering off to minor aftershocks, and she collapsed limply, becoming slowly aware of Jack peppering her face with kisses, one big hand smoothing her tangled hair as he leaned on his elbows above her.

Finally, Skye managed to open her eyes, look up at him and smile. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” he murmured quietly. “You okay?” His expression was tender and a little concerned.

“Oh God, _so_ much better than just okay,” Skye said fervently, making him chuckle. She gasped as his cock moved slightly inside her, and he made an apologetic little sound, made to pull back. “No!” she clutched at him, holding on tight. “Not yet. Just – hold me. I like your weight on me.”

“I’m heavy,” he warned, but he stopped trying to pull out.

“I know,” she whispered against his neck as he held her close. “It’s nice. Makes me feel…” she searched for the word, finally found it. “Safe.”

“Oh, darling,” he kissed her softly, tightened his arms around her. “I will always keep you safe.”

Skye knew it might be a promise he couldn’t fulfil, considering their lives. But she loved him for wanting to, knew that he would always do his best, that he would die before letting any harm come to her – or to Casey. He’d been prepared to face the death penalty in silence for fear that speaking out might cause harm to come to his daughter, after all, and she was quite sure that he would do no less for her, even though they hadn’t yet bonded. The words on their stomachs hadn’t quite aligned, Skye suspected that Jack would probably need to be sitting up with her in his lap for them to touch as they made love, and _whoa_ did she ever like _that_ idea. Gently she stroked his huge shoulders, returned his tender kisses, savouring the feeling of being warm and safe, held securely in Jack’s loving arms.

“I hope to God we didn’t wake Casey,” Jack said suddenly, “I think we got a bit noisy, there…”

Skye grinned. “Don’t worry. The Playground’s walls are _very_ well insulated.”

“That’s good. Because I suspect we’ll be gettin’ noisy pretty regularly. I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off you.”

“Sound good to me,” Skye replied happily, reaching up to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **DAMMIT, I think I just fell in love with Jack Rollins, too.**
> 
> **Jemma/Colossus is next on the list to be written, as requested by sneakytortoise, Cal, Yla, bumble.bee.kawaii and TheVorpalQueen. Stand by for smutty Russian! (LenaAzarova, I’ll be in touch soon for that help you promised ;) )**


	11. Jemma/Colossus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Continues from Chapter 56,[ _Feels Like Magic_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/6896302) – or to be more precise, fits into the middle of that Short. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Russian words you'll see used in the chapter:
> 
> _Chort vozmi_ – bloody hell
> 
> _Ti menya ubivaesh –_ you’re killing me
> 
> _Potselui menya –_ kiss me
> 
> _Krasivaya –_ beautiful (adj.)
> 
> _Bozhe moi_ – oh my God
> 
> _ptichka moya_ – my little bird
> 
> _sladkaya –_ sweet
> 
> _Pomedlennei, shalunishka_ – slow down, you minx
> 
> _Yebat’_ – fuck! (only a lot stronger, LenaAzarova tells me)
> 
> _oy, ti prekrasna_ – oh, you’re perfect
> 
> Thank you very much to LenaAzarova for the Russian translations!

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/daniel%20cudmore_zpslf1aht9s.jpg.html)

It transpired that Piotr had been on his way down to Atlanta to see some friends, and had just stopped at the drugstore to get some eyedrops.

“I have been driving for six hours straight,” he ducked his head a bit bashfully. “My eyes were getting sore.”

“When do you need to be in Atlanta?” Phil asked.

“My friends are expecting me tomorrow, but there is no hurry. I can call and tell them that I am delayed. If I tell them that I met my soulmate, they will understand.” His brown eyes were full of wonder as he looked down at Jemma.

“Okay.” Phil looked at Jemma, who was staring back at Piotr, just as discombobulated. “Simmons,” he said sharply, and she jumped. “Finish getting your supplies, please. Piotr and I will just step outside and make some calls – I need to call Xavier,” he said apologetically, and Piotr nodded, unconcerned. “Then Piotr can come back to base with us, once I’ve cleared him.”

“I’ll get your eyedrops,” Jemma told Piotr.

“Thank you, Jemma,” he rumbled softly in return, and the way he said her name, his husky accented voice lingering over the two syllables, made her knees go utterly weak. She clutched onto the trolley handle for support, but couldn’t make her feet move until Coulson had virtually dragged her soulmate out of the store.

Piotr made the call, speaking in rapid Russian for a few moments, unaware that Coulson understood every word. Coulson held off on making his call to Xavier, listening in while pretending to fiddle with his phone, but there was nothing remotely sinister in what the younger man was saying; he was just excitedly telling his friend that he’d met his soulmate and she was so beautiful and he was hoping to spend some time with her. His friend obviously told him not to worry because Piotr laughed and said;

“ _Da_ , you’re a good friend, Nikolai. I’ll be in touch.”

Phil dialled the number he had for Xavier’s Academy and asked the polite young woman who answered the phone if he could speak to the Professor. He was put through seconds later.

“Colossus and one of your people, Coulson?” a dry voice said in his ear. “How intriguing.”

“She’s not X, and I can’t afford to lose her anyway,” Phil came right to the point.

“I daresay we should talk about an alliance then, hmm? Give me a call when you get back to your office.”

“I’d forgotten why I hate dealing with telepaths so much,” Phil muttered crossly as the phone went dead. Piotr snorted beside him.

“Try living with them!”

“Thank you, _no_.”

Jemma came out of the store then, weighed down with bags, and Piotr rushed over to take them from her, scooping all the handles easily into one huge hand. “Please. Allow me to carry them for you.”

He was even better-looking in natural daylight rather than the harsh artificial light inside the shop. And still utterly enormous. Jemma was going to get a serious crick in her neck. Unless he picked her up. He looked like she wouldn’t be a burden. Gazing up at Piotr, Jemma lost herself in sensual daydreams, unaware that he was in the same state.

“Earth to lovestruck idiots!” Phil snapped his fingers in front of Jemma’s face. “You can stare at each other later. Right now I need to get back to base, and now we’re late, so get in the car, Simmons! It’s about twenty minutes away, if you want to follow us,” he told Piotr, who nodded, putting Jemma’s bags into the back of the SUV as Jemma scrambled into the driver’s seat.

“I wouldn’t let you drive, you’re utterly distracted, but I still can’t drive with this hand,” Phil gestured with his new prosthetic, “so for God’s sake, _try_ not to get us killed?”

“I can focus!” Jemma protested, but her eyes were already drifting to the rearview mirror. Piotr had an SUV of his own – somehow, she doubted he would fit in a regular car very well – and was following them, at a sensible distance. Which was good. Phil hoped. At least he wasn’t likely to rear-end them and compound the problem if Simmons _did_ manage to crash, anyway.

“Just take the rest of the day off,” Phil said as they parked up in the vehicle garage, “I’ll get Morse to unload your purchases…” Jemma had already gone. Shaking his head, Phil sighed and then chuckled to himself. _Well_. His team deserved a little happiness.

Piotr was lifting a bag out of the back of his car, a rucksack that looked small over his massive shoulder. He smiled tenderly down at Jemma as she came hurrying up to him, her wavy hair swinging around her cheeks.

“This way,” she said, reaching shyly for his hand. He folded his fingers around her tiny delicate ones gently. He was going to have to be _very_ careful with her dainty, beautiful body... Firmly, he pushed the thought away. _No rushing things, Piotr_ , he told himself sternly.

“This is the accommodation wing,” Jemma said, “this one’s mine…” she opened the door. “Because the base is undermanned, we’re allowed to occupy the bigger rooms, we weren’t confined to the singles, which is convenient, isn’t it?” she babbled, feeling nervous as Piotr made no move to enter the room after her.

“Jemma.” He hesitated as she looked up at him, her bright hazel eyes shyly inquiring. “I – don’t want to rush this.”

“Oh.” She drooped like a wilted flower. “Well, of course, I’m sure we can sort out another room for you, if that’s what you want…”

In that moment, Piotr discovered two things about his soulmate; firstly, that it destroyed him to see her look sad, and secondly – that she wanted him just as much as he did her. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, glad to see that it was self-locking. Dropping his bag to the floor, he reached Jemma in one long stride and put his hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“ _Chort vozmi_ , don’t look at me like that,” he gritted out, stooped down and kissed her.

She was so _small_ ; immediately he realised that it just wasn’t going to work, curled an arm around her waist and lifted her clear off her feet. Her slender arms went around his neck, fingers running into his hair where it curled slightly at the nape of his neck as she kissed him back eagerly.

Piotr’s free hand came up, caressed Jemma’s cheek lightly as his mouth explored hers. She wrapped her legs around his waist suddenly and he groaned low in his chest, his body reacting very predictably as she nestled closer against him.

“I want you,” Jemma pulled back suddenly and stared at Piotr.

“ _Ti menya ubivaesh_ ,” he groaned, and she blinked, bemused.

“What? I don’t speak Russian.”

His jaw clenched. “Sorry. I – my thoughts are still in Russian, when I get – confused or – excited, I lose my English.”

“I didn’t say that I minded. It’s very sexy.” She grinned at him. “Just that I didn’t understand. Was that a yes or a no?”

“ _Da_. That means…”

“Yes. I know _da_ and _nyet_ , that’s pretty much my Russian limit, though. You’ll have to teach me more.”

“I will.” He moved to the bed – a generous one, he was pleased to note, and sturdy, it would support his big frame fine – and lowered her gently down to it, kneeling on the mattress beside her. Tracing a thick fingertip down her soft cheek, he said softly, “ _Kasatsya_.”

“Face?” Jemma queried.

He shook his head. “Touch.” Cupping his hand around her cheek, he said “ _Krasivaya_.”

“Face?” she grinned.

“Beautiful.”

She blushed, turned her gaze away shyly. Leaning in, Piotr whispered against her lips “ _Potselui menya_.”

“Ummm,” Jemma sighed a couple of minutes later as he lifted his head. “I think I can guess that one.”

“Good.” Piotr’s heart was pounding. “You will need to know that one. I’ll be wanting a lot of your kisses, I think.”

“Likewise,” Jemma wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down to her.

Piotr tried to keep his hands away from her, but Jemma seemed to have no such compunction. Her small hands were tugging firmly at his T-shirt, dragging it upwards until it was trapped uncomfortably around his armpits and he grunted, lifting up off her for a moment to peel it off and throw it carelessly away.

“Bloody hell!” Jemma stared, wide-eyed. It had been more than obvious that her soulmate was well-built, the breadth of his shoulders and corded muscle of his forearms made that very clear, but she hadn’t expected him to be _quite_ that cut.

Piotr smiled a little shyly. “You approve?”

“Goodness, yes!” She didn’t know where she wanted to touch first, his massive pecs or that beautifully defined six-pack. She compromised and put a hand on each. “I see why they call you Colossus.”

“No,” he said quietly. “No, you do not. I’ll show you. Later.”

She blinked, but he was kissing her again and this time she had all that smooth, lightly tanned skin to explore, to find the spots that made him gasp and shift against her – purely in the name of scientific research, of course. There was a ticklish spot on his waist that made him chuckle boyishly and roll to his back, pulling her to lie atop him, his massive hands spanning her waist as he held her.

“Are you ticklish, then?” Piotr asked mischievously, flicking his forefingers against her ribs.

Jemma squealed. “Don’t, don’t!”

“There is a saying, I think, about people who live in glass houses…”

She was giggling hysterically less than a minute later, pinned beneath him, utterly helpless to get away. “Stop! Piotr, _please_ stop!”

He stopped instantly, the pupils of his Cadbury-chocolate-brown eyes blowing wide as he looked down at her. “Say that again. Say my name again, Jemma…”

She licked her lips. “Piotr,” she said softly, and he groaned. He was straddling her, his groin over her thighs, and she could very clearly feel his arousal. Both of her wrists were trapped in one of his big hands, held above her head where he’d secured them while he mercilessly tickled her with the other hand, and his eyes slid down now, to where her breasts heaved against her thin blouse with her quick, unsteady breaths.

“Take it off, Piotr,” Jemma whispered, and he licked his lips, his eyes sliding back up to her face.

“You are sure?” His accent had thickened, his voice low and rasping.

“Yes. _Please_ ,” she added fervently.

“This is not too fast?”

“It’s too _slow_.”

He smiled, his brown eyes glowing, and nodded. “You will tell me if I am going too fast, my Jemma?”

She melted at the possessive way he spoke. Nodded wordlessly. He let her hands go and reached down to her blouse, his thick fingers remarkably deft as he delicately popped the tiny pearl buttons one by one.

Piotr’s breath came faster as he slowly spread the thin fabric away from Jemma’s body. She lay still, her hands still above her head, watching him as he looked down at her. She was lovely, her pale skin soft as silk under his hands, a pretty confection of cream silk and lace covering her breasts.

“ _Krasivaya_ ,” he said softly, and she smiled, remembering the word.

“You can take that off too.”

He said something under his breath in Russian, a muscle in his cheek jumping as he clenched his jaw.

“Piotr, _I want this_ , I want to make love with you. If you _don’t_ want that then stop now because I’m going to be very disappointed if you stop _later_.” She gave him a meaningful look.

“ _Bozhe moi_ ,” he groaned, “you will be the killing of me, Jemma…”

“You mean _the death of me_ , or perhaps that I’m killing you,” she couldn’t quite help but say.

“Or both,” Piotr’s mouth turned up at one corner in a crooked grin.

Jemma giggled, lifting her hands to rest them lightly on his broad shoulders. “Oh come on, are you telling me that you can’t handle a little slip of a lass like me?” she teased playfully.

“Oh, I can handle you, all right. I’m a little concerned about whether you can handle _me_.” He smiled, but his eyes were serious.

Jemma licked her lips. “About that.” Her gaze slid down, down his massive, long body. “If you’re proportional – I’m thinking that’s why I’ve never been able to find a vibrator that felt satisfying enough inside me.”

His pupils blew so wide for a moment that his eyes looked completely black, and then he let out a little huff of air and buried his face in the pillow beside her head, muttering into the down in Russian.

“Piotr?” Jemma said after a moment, stroking the back of his neck lightly – even his _neck_ was muscly, _good grief_. “I – didn’t mean to shock you. But I’m a bio-scientist, the human body doesn’t hold too many mysteries for me, and I’ve studied soulmates, I know that we’re biologically compatible, so logically it makes sense...”

“Mm-hm,” he lifted his head, looked down at her, giving that quirky little smile again. “I wasn’t so much _shocked_ as _needed a moment to get myself under control_.”

“Oh,” a soft flush built in her cheeks, and Piotr couldn’t resist kissing her again, hesitantly laying one hand on her breast. Jemma arched into him, pushing her breast into his hand, and he felt her nipple harden beneath the thin silky fabric of her bra.

“You’re so beautiful, _ptichka moya_ ,” he murmured, his voice a soft, husky growl as he eased down the bed, kissed the flush travelling down her slender neck. “Such soft skin.” He tugged the cup of her bra down, her nipple popping out against his fingers. Jemma moaned as he squeezed gently, her hand sliding up his neck and into his short brown hair, scratching at his scalp. He bit lightly at her collarbone and she jumped slightly before letting out a little moan as he set about sucking a hickey into her neck, all the while his thick fingers playing with her nipple, teasing and tugging until it was full and swollen as a cherry.

Jemma clung to Piotr’s broad shoulders, arching her neck to give him better access, moaning as he kissed down her chest to her breast, licked around her nipple for a moment before sucking it hard into his mouth.

She was making the most delightful little noises as he tasted her, soft wails and throaty moans that were driving him mad, but he was quite determined that he wasn’t going to rush. That he would take his time, make absolutely sure that his soulmate received only pleasure when he took her, when he slid his aching cock deep inside her slender, delicate body and fucked her until she couldn’t walk straight…

“ _Chort vozmi_ ,” Piotr groaned under his breath, pulling off Jemma’s breast and resting his brow against her collarbone for a moment. “Too much. Want you too much.”

She ran small fingers into his short brown hair, tugged until he lifted his head and looked at her. Her pupils were blown wide, her lips parted and wet, the flush of arousal painting her pale skin.

“Get undressed and fuck me _now_ ,” Jemma growled at him demandingly. Piotr’s eyebrows flew up, but she refused to be embarrassed. “Piotr, _please_. I want you, I want you inside me, I _need_ it.” Arching up slightly under him, she worked one hand behind her back, unclasped her bra and started wriggling out of her blouse and bra together. Piotr’s eyes followed her movements and he shifted back, taking his weight off her hips to make it easier for her. As soon as she’d removed the unwanted garments, though, Jemma reached out and grabbed at his belt buckle.

“ _Jemma_ ,” he rumbled, a low sound deep in his chest.

“Now!” she almost shouted at him.

“No!” he said back just as firmly, grasping her hands. “I don’t care what you’re used to, I’m not going to hurt you by rushing this.”

“But I _want_ ,” Jemma sobbed, almost mindless.

“I know, but you can’t, not yet.” Holding both her slender wrists easily in one large hand, he reached down with the other and unzipped her pants, long thick fingers peeling them down easily. Moving off her briefly, he removed the trousers, and the satin panties she was wearing beneath, lifting them to his face to scent the wet fabric.

“Mm,” he murmured, “delicious.”

Jemma lifted a slender leg, placed her foot on his shoulder, and Piotr looked down the length of her thigh, to the moist pink flesh surrounded by neatly trimmed light brown curls.

“Ehhh, _sladkaya_ ,” he groaned, and dived in hungrily, burying his face between her thighs and shoving his tongue deep, his huge hands clamping on her hips and lifting her up to improve his access.

Jemma shrieked as his tongue – and that was just as long and thick as every other part of him – lapped at her, slurping her juices greedily, his upper lip working her clit. “Oh, _Piotr_!” she cried out, and he gave a rumbling growl of satisfaction at hearing her shout his name, the vibrations transmitting from his lips to her clit and making her wail with pleasure.

Two long, thick fingers pressed up inside Jemma, crooking to brush over the most sensitive spot on her body, dancing repeatedly over the tiny bundle of nerves.

“Oh bloody Nora!” she sobbed out, her fingers tightening convulsively in his hair as she came, her body bucking frantically. Piotr only made satisfied rumbling noises and kept lapping, drinking her juices thirstily, adding a third finger to the two already working inside her. It wasn’t until he had four thick fingers sliding easily inside her soaking tunnel that he lifted his head, taking his other hand off her and reaching with shaking fingers to unfasten his belt.

Jemma writhed on Piotr’s fingers, making husky, desperate noises deep in her throat, quite beyond words as his hand pumped slowly, his thumb flicking over her clit with every pass. She managed to force her eyes open as he took his hand away, though, looked hazily up at him to see him pulling his wallet from his jeans pocket and extracting a condom from it.

“Oh yes,” she gasped eagerly, “please, please – holy _shit_ ,” as her eyes slid down and she saw his cock. Pushing herself up on her elbows, she stared wide-eyed as Piotr eased the condom over the swollen head, rolled it down that thick, _ridiculously_ long shaft. The scientist in her couldn’t help but analyse and classify him as not just proportional to his huge body but a bit more besides. _That’s a porn star cock if ever I saw one_ , she thought, and Piotr’s head jerked up, his eyes wide.

“You have seen a lot of porn star cocks?”

“Oh shit, I said that out loud!” Jemma flopped back and covered her eyes with her hands. “Foot in mouth disease strikes again,” she mumbled, disgusted with herself.

Piotr laughed quietly, and she felt him shift on the bed a moment before his hands curved around the outside of her thighs. “I don’t mind _that_. I’m a little concerned I won’t live up to expectations if you watch a lot of porn, though.”

“I don’t,” she risked a peep from behind her hands, gasped as she saw _that cock_ pointing directly at her like a bazooka.

“What is, _bazooka_?” Piotr asked, brow furrowing.

“Okay, never mind!” Jemma squeaked, hastily reaching out to him. “Kiss me,” she begged, thinking, _At least I can’t blurt out inappropriate thoughts unwittingly if my tongue is otherwise occupied._

Fortunately Piotr was happy to comply, moving over her and leaning down to kiss her hungrily. Jemma didn’t even care about the taste of herself on his mouth, sliding her arms around his neck and holding him close, feeling his cock laying heavy along her thigh for a moment before he moved, his back bowing as he kept kissing her.

She felt so tiny in his arms, fragile and delicate, and Piotr, desperate though he was to get inside Jemma, was suddenly afraid that he would hurt her, that he would prove after all to be too big for her. His tastes had always run to small, dainty women, but they were just not made to take him. His soulmate should be the exception, but – he had to let her control how _much_ of him she would take.

Jemma moaned happily into Piotr’s mouth as the broad head of his cock nudged just inside her; rolling her hips and wrapping her legs around his waist she tried to take him deeper, but he wasn’t budging. She whined impatiently, then yelped as he rolled suddenly, flipping them both over so that she was on top.

“What…?” Jemma lifted her head, blinking in confusion.

“I’m worried I will hurt you,” Piotr confessed, grabbing pillows and tucking them under her knees, “that I’m too big for you. Take what you want, _ptichka moya_ , ehhh, _bozhe moi_!” as she eagerly reached down, grasped the base of his cock in her hand, and lowered herself onto him. “ _Pomedlennei_ , _shalunishka_!”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re saying,” Jemma panted as she slowly eased down on him, “but it sounds _awfully_ sexy, _do_ keep talking.”

Piotr was beyond words, though, his head arched back, cords standing out in his neck as his fingers scrabbled at the sheets, fighting for a little control as Jemma slid on down, _taking_ him, _all_ of him, deep inside her until at last his tip butted lightly against her cervix just as her bottom landed on his thighs.

“ _Yebat’_ , Jemma!” Piotr ground out through gritted teeth, gazing up at her as she stilled briefly.

“I think you’re going to have to teach me Russian,” she smiled down at him teasingly, her fingers tracing over his abs.

“Urgh,” he groaned as she flexed her knees experimentally, lifting off him a little way before sinking back down. “Anything – I’ll teach you anything you like – _oy_ , Jemma, _ti prekrasna_ …” as she began to move a little faster, her hips rocking. His hands came up to cup and fondle her breasts, pinch her erect nipples in his big fingers. “Is good? Is what you like?” He concentrated, managed to speak English to her, although he was aware it was very broken.

“ _Very_ good,” Jemma gasped in response. “I like very much, oh my _goodness_.” He’d added a sudden little twist of his hips as she took him to full depth again. “Fuck, oh _fuck_. Fuck!”

Piotr smiled as her potty mouth took over again, the curses spilling from her lips as she arched helplessly. His words were on her ribs, curving around under her breast, and he reached for them with his marked hand without even thinking about it.

They both cried out wordlessly as the bond exploded into being between them, intensifying with every movement of Jemma’s hips, but suddenly it wasn’t _enough_ for either of them. Jemma moaned desperately, leaning forward to put her hands on Piotr’s shoulders, and he grasped her hip with his free hand and jerked up against her _hard_.

“Yes!” she shrieked, “fuck, more, harder, _yes_!”

He was only too happy to comply, driving up hard into her, her slight body nothing to his strength, the muscles in his arms surging as he accelerated his thrusts, Jemma making frantic strangled sounds in her throat as the changed angle put pressure exactly where she needed it, his cock driving over her g-spot every time he moved, the friction powerful enough to drive her over the edge incredibly quickly. She panted, her nails clawing furrows in his shoulders, her whole body drawing tight as she seized around him suddenly.

He _felt_ it, felt the climax crash through her mind even before she tightened around him, the hot wet grasp of muscles a secondary ecstasy that sucked him right up to heaven with her. Piotr shouted her name, his hips surging upwards, buried to his full depth inside her as his seed gushed hotly out.

Jemma collapsed onto Piotr’s chest, struggling to take a deep breath, to get oxygen back to her starved lungs. She’d just about stopped breathing at the end there. After a few moments one huge arm wrapped around her, his other hand coming up to smooth her sweaty, tangled hair back from her flushed face.

He didn’t speak, and neither did she, but she could feel him, feel his contentment, his wondering joy as they tentatively explored the bond newly come to life between them. Several long minutes later he sighed, shifting her gently off him, putting his hand down to secure the condom.

“Bathroom?” Piotr asked quietly.

“Across the corridor, I’m afraid we don’t have ensuites,” Jemma admitted, and he nodded and grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed, swathing it around his waist.

“Back in a moment,” his eyes were soft as he looked down at her, and she nodded and snuggled down into the bedcovers to await his return.

“So,” she said brightly once he’d come back and climbed into bed beside her, curling around her – and he was just the best big spoon _ever_ – “why _do_ they call you Colossus, then? Director Coulson seemed _awfully_ enthused about having you join us.”

Piotr grinned. “I can make myself useful.”

“Yes, you said that, I just want to know what that actually _means_ ,” Jemma gave him a pointed look.

“Watch, then. Give me a little room.” He edged away from her, and Jemma tilted her head, puzzled, her eyes widening as he suddenly began to _grow_ , his skin shimmering from light tan to gleaming silvery metal.

“Holy fuck!”

He laughed. “I do like the way you swear when you’re shocked or agitated.”

She couldn’t resist knocking on his stomach, wincing as she knocked a little too hard and hurt herself. He laughed and shimmered back to his normal form, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. She wanted to understand how it worked, but of course he had no way to explain. He was _different_ , his DNA transmuted by his proximity to the Chernobyl disaster when he was a small child.

“Magic,” he told her, holding his marked hand to the words on her ribs, trying to show her what he had no words to explain; that some things could not be defined by science. Soulbonds had defied every such attempt, in any case.

He saw Jemma’s frustration; he also saw her willingness to be distracted, the way that the bond affected her. It certainly affected him, even more than the proximity to her delectable, slight body, the way she looked at him from those brilliant hazel eyes. Taking her in his arms, Piotr was more than willing to distract her any time she wished.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next on the list to be written is Bucky/Skye, easily one of the most popular in terms of requests, leaping up the list! Voted for by Prue02, Lula, Diaz, nobutsiriuslywhat, skmitton, QueenIsabella, MrsDixon101, Vulpecula Night, Anna, SnowNox554, menomsynes_tears, jocillyria, chambersofmusic, LadyWinterlight, UrsulaR, alecksanduhrah, elliesmeow, cateyes1401, hellodaydreamer, SeleneAduial, Lia, Ntana and a couple of anons too!**


	12. Skye/Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Continues from Chapter 6,[ _My Name Is Skye_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/5946875). AiyanaS has been working on a sequel for this chapter, but this can be considered an AU to her version.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Voted for by Prue02, Lula, Diaz, nobutsiriuslywhat, skmitton, QueenIsabella, MrsDixon101, Vulpecula Night, Anna, SnowNox554, mnemosynes_tears, jocillyria, chambersofmusic, LadyWinterlight, UrsulaR, alecksanduhrah, elliesmeow, cateyes1401, hellodaydreamer, SeleneAduial, Lia, Ntana, abonnett13 and a couple of anons too, this one was popular!**
> 
> **The original Short was obviously written before San Juan, since Trip is in it, but since I want this episode to take place after Skye gains her powers, you can assume that Bucky was off doing Something Else during the second half of season 2. Probably getting lots of therapy – perhaps with Andrew – and talking with Steve and giving the Avengers details on HYDRA bases.**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Sebastian%20Stan/sebastian%20stan%201_zpsbp5povoa.jpg.html)

Bucky was avoiding her. Skye couldn’t come to any other conclusion.

He’d returned to the Playground about a week earlier, closeted himself to talk with Coulson for a while, and when he emerged, sought her out briefly to talk. He’d found her sitting with Lincoln, looking over a list of candidates to join their new ‘secret team’.

“James!” Skye jumped to her feet when she saw him come on. He paused, looked at her gravely.

“Call me Bucky, please,” he said quietly. His eyes slid across to Lincoln. “I’m disturbing you. I apologise.”

“No, it’s fine…” but he was already gone, a swift, silent shadow.

“ _That’s_ your soulmate?” Lincoln said disbelievingly into the ringing silence Bucky left in his wake.

Skye had gone after him, of course. But Bucky seemed to have already found some hiding space in the base, one where the surveillance cameras didn’t pick him up. She soon discovered that if she was looking for him, he wasn’t to be found. He was definitely still on the base, because he’d turn up at mealtimes and team meetings – and then vanish again, a dark ghost in SHIELD’s machine.

Eventually, she got thoroughly sick of her soulmate avoiding her. So she hacked the security system and gave her lanyard access to his room. She was waiting in his bed, quite naked, when he came in later that evening.

Bucky sighed as he closed the door, leaning his forehead against it for a moment. It took a supreme effort of will to keep himself at a distance from Skye. But he had to; he wasn’t good enough for her. That Lincoln kid had a crush on her; sooner or later she’d see that he would be much better for her than Bucky ever could be.

Suddenly, Bucky became aware that he wasn’t alone. Whirling, he flicked his wrist, a knife dropping into his hand – Coulson had asked him not to carry guns inside the base – flipping the knife upright ready to throw.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t skewer me, please,” Skye said. She’d tossed back the bedcovers as soon as Bucky closed the door and lay on her side, chin propped on her hand, one knee bent, in an alluring, seductive posture.

Bucky’s eyes almost fell out of his head. Dry-mouthed, he stared, agape.

“Well, you’re not running away on spotting me, that’s a first,” Skye said sarcastically.

“I haven’t been running away,” Bucky finally managed to get out, dropping the knife onto his desk.

“Okay, you’ve just made a hasty exit every time it’s looked remotely possible that you and I might end up alone together.”

He didn’t really have an answer to that. And he also had no idea where to put his eyes. He settled for fixing them on a spot on the wall well away from Skye’s slender, nude body. Or, he tried. But HYDRA had trained the Winter Soldier to look at whoever was speaking to him, and it seemed some of that conditioning was still in effect. Or so Bucky told himself. That was surely the reason why his eyes slid involuntarily back to Skye whenever she spoke. It was absolutely not under his control.

 _She’s so beautiful_ …

Skye didn’t miss the way he was trying, and failing, not to look at her. Deliberately, she stretched like a cat, snuggled luxuriantly against Bucky’s pillow. His lips parted and he stared unabashedly for several seconds before remembering himself and jerking his gaze away.

“So,” she said, smirking inwardly as he looked back at her, apparently unable to help himself, “shall we talk about why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“You don’t want me, Skye, I’m a wreck. I’ve got my memories back, or most of them, but the things I’ve done…”

“None of them by your own choice, Bucky.” Since he showed no apparent inclination to come closer, Skye got up and went to him, reaching out to take his hands in hers, unflinching at the touch of the cool metal one against her skin.

Bucky swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You really shouldn’t be here.”

“Actually, I think this is the exact place I should be.” She moved a little closer, letting her breasts brush against the front of his shirt. “Don’t you want me, Bucky?” Skye asked softly, fairly confident of the answer.

Bucky couldn’t speak. He just stared down at Skye, at her eyes, so dark a brown they were almost black, gentle and yet challenging as she stared up at him.

“Because I want _you_ , Bucky. I don’t care about what HYDRA made you do. I know what they do to people. I’ve seen it. And once you were free of them, you made your choices, and they’re choices I approve of. The same things I would have done, in your position. You’re my _soulmate_ , Bucky, and I was born long after HYDRA took you and made you into their weapon.” She pulled her hands from his, reached up and began to unbutton his shirt slowly. Slipped one hand inside and caressed her fingertips lightly over his chest.

“I’m no good for you. Not a man like me. You should find someone who’s not so damaged, someone closer to your own age – Lincoln’s a good guy, he likes you…”

“Lincoln?” Skye blinked, bemused, and shook her head. “Bucky – I’m not interested in Lincoln. I want _you_.” She had his shirt all the way unbuttoned now, moved closer so that her breasts rubbed lightly on his chest.

Bucky’s hands were starting to shake with the effort of not touching her. He clenched his fists at his side, gritted his teeth. Tried to keep his eyes up above Skye’s head. Right up until her lips grazed his chest, just before a wet tongue flicked over his nipple.

“I don’t know how,” he blurted.

“ _What?_ ” Skye looked up at him, wide-eyed. There was a dull flush on Bucky’s cheeks, and he didn’t meet her eyes, keeping his gaze resolutely fixed above her head.

“I don’t know how. I don’t remember if I ever did. I was a weapon to HYDRA, not a man; they did their best to suppress any physical urges in me. It was quite a while after I left them that the drugs and shit they had me on wore off – and then I met you. As for before, I asked Steve – he was pretty embarrassed, but he says as far as he knows I never had a steady. It’s quite possible I’m a virgin.”

Skye’s mouth hung open with disbelief. She couldn’t think of a thing to say.

Bucky darted a quick glance down at her. “I know the _theory_ , obviously. Um… internet.”

“Oh _no_ ,” Skye half-laughed. “You’ve been watching internet porn?”

“NO!” Bucky looked horrified. “Wikipedia!”

That just set Skye off into a fit of giggles. She leaned against Bucky, laughing hard against his chest, and his mouth twitched unwillingly. Slowly, hesitantly, he put his arms around her.

“Sorry,” Skye gasped eventually, managing to get her laughter under control. “I was just – there’s this movie about a guy, called the 40-Year-Old Virgin – and I was just thinking that nobody would _believe_ one about a nonagenarian superhero virgin who looks like you…”

“Thanks. I think?” Bucky said dryly, and Skye had to fight down her laughter again. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, gave him a sultry smile.

“I know a _really good_ cure for virginity.”

He was startled into a laugh of his own. “I just bet you do, doll.”

“Mm,” she gave a little wriggle against him, her breasts rubbing on his chest. “I love it when you talk forties.”

He tactfully didn’t say that there were all sorts of not-very-nice names that a girl who stripped naked and waited for a man in his bed would have been called back then. From what he heard, girls were still called not-very-nice names now, and most of the time it seemed to be completely unjustified. Not that he was _complaining_ about Skye taking the initiative. Not now he’d got over the shock, anyway.

“Well, doll,” deliberately he emphasised the Brooklyn that was coming more and more naturally back into his speech, “howsabout you an’ me take this over to that big ol’ bed and you can show me that cure?”

“Mm, dreamy,” Skye sighed, running a slim hand up over his chest, hooking it around the back of his neck under his still-long hair. He’d thought about cutting it before realising it would make him too recognisable. Better to keep it long, to keep a short beard. James Buchanan Barnes’ face was far too famous.

Skye pulled gently, and it would have taken a far stronger-willed man than Bucky to keep from bending his head to kiss her, tasting her soft lips as she parted them for him. She tasted so good, her tongue dancing lightly against his, he didn’t even notice when she took a few small steps back, gently pulling him with her. Not until she bent her knees to sit down on the edge of the bed, her hand on the back of his neck urging him down after her. Their lips pulled apart, and Bucky gazed down at Skye, his blue eyes dark as she lay down on the bed, letting her hand trail gently down over his shoulder.

“Take off your clothes,” she said softly.

Bucky hesitated. “My arm…”

“Is part of you.” Skye smiled softly. “I’m looking forward to it, actually. Cold metal on my nipples…”

He spat something guttural in Russian, making her laugh quietly, before he started tugging his clothes off, almost ripping them in his haste. Skye just lay back and watched, admiring the sharply defined, lean musculature revealed as Bucky stripped. And then he was sitting down on the bed beside her, hips angled away, looking down at her.

“I ain’t said it yet,” he muttered, a bit shame-faced, “but God in heaven, you’re so beautiful, Skye.”

She smiled. “Likewise.” Her fingers trailed a meandering path up his arm. “Touch me, Bucky,” she begged softly. “I want you to touch me – and I want to touch you.”

Bucky swallowed, hard, as his gaze travelled slowly down her body. “Show me,” he requested suddenly, “show me how you like to be touched, doll. I’m scared I’m gonna hurt ya…”

Taking his metal hand in hers, Skye brought it to her breast, circled one cold fingertip around her nipple. Bucky watched fascinated as it pebbled under his touch. “You won’t hurt me, Bucky,” Skye told him softly. “Just do what you want to. What comes naturally.”

“I – can’t really feel that,” Bucky murmured. “Can I…” his other hand, his human hand, hovered uncertainly above Skye’s skin.

“Go ahead,” she begged, and he smiled before lowering his hand, skimming a fingertip across her collarbone, lingering at the hollow of her throat.

“Soft,” he husked, “your skin is so soft.”

She encouraged him with a soft hum of pleasure, lay back and let him touch her, discovering wonderingly the sensitive places that made her sigh and moan, the way her nipples reacted to the cold of his metal hand followed by the warmth of his mouth as he dared to lean in and taste.

“Bucky,” Skye panted his name as he suckled a little harder, sliding her fingers into his hair and holding him close. “Oh, damn, that’s good. Oh yes. Please.”

He growled hungrily, nipped gently, smiling against her breast as she moaned and shuddered. And then he lifted his head. “Show me your clit.”

Skye blinked hazily. “Hm?”

Bucky grinned sheepishly. “Everything I read – well, it’s pretty obvious that I need to pay your clit some attention. Show me. Show me how you like to be touched, Skye, so that I can give you what you need…”

The low rasp of his voice was turning her on so badly, the way he was looking at her destroyed any embarrassment she might have felt. Skye parted her legs, bent the knee on the side away from Bucky. “Watch, then,” she said, and gave him a mischievous smile. “Feel free to join in. Any time you like.”

He sucked in his breath as he watched her hand slide slowly down her stomach. She stroked lazy circles on her thighs, gradually moving inwards towards her centre. Bucky licked his lips, watching, and Skye had to bite down on her own lips, because the thought of him putting that mouth on her was so hot, but she couldn’t ask that of him. Not yet. She let her forefinger skate lightly over her clit, pressing the hood back briefly before sliding lower, gathering slick on her finger and moving back up.

“Just – here,” she said breathily. “I can’t speak for what other women like, but for me, I like quick movement. Light friction, passing back and forth, ohhh…” Bucky had put his metal hand almost absently back to her breast, started playing with her nipple again as he watched her hand.

“Can I…” he said hesitantly, moving his other hand towards her groin uncertainly.

“Oh hells yeah, please,” Skye gasped, and a moment later his fingers were moving beneath hers, sliding into her soaked pussy, his thumb flicking over her clit. “Bucky,” she whimpered thinly, and his eyes came back to her face.

“Can I put my mouth on you?” he asked, his voice low and rough, and Skye lost it. She came hard, squirting on his fingers, and Bucky gasped delightedly, staring greedily, taking it all in as Skye’s slender body bucked, high-pitched keens coming from her throat, her inner walls clenching on his fingers.

“S-slow,” she gasped at last, reaching down to grasp his wrist. “Sensitive, now.”

He looked slightly disappointed, and she smiled. “Just for a few minutes. Then, we can do more.”

“Oh.” Embarrassed at being so easily read, Bucky ducked his head, his hair swinging forward to cover his eyes. Skye smiled and curled towards him, stroking one hand gently along his flank.

“Can I touch _you_ now, Bucky?”

He swallowed, nodded wordlessly.

“Lie back,” she whispered it, and slowly he obeyed, lying down with his head on the pillow, arms stiff at his sides. “Relax,” Skye murmured, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I won’t bite. Well,” she glanced up at him through her eyelashes. “Not unless you want me to.”

Bucky made a strangled little sound in his throat as her fingers danced lightly across his chest.

“Tell me if there’s anything I do that you don’t like, anywhere you don’t want me to touch,” Skye instructed as her hand lingered close to the thick scarring where his metal arm joined his body. “Is your scar sensitive?”

“Not so much. It’s very old,” Bucky admitted. “The nerves – they don’t work the same there.”

“Okay.” She pressed a gentle kiss on the thick white scarring and then moved across, kissing slowly down his chest. Paused to flick her tongue gently over one small nipple, smiled as he gave a muffled gasp. “It’s okay to let me know, Bucky,” she murmured quietly, tracing her hands lightly over his muscled chest, exploring him slowly, “if you like what I’m doing. If there’s somewhere you want me to keep touching, or you don’t want me to touch.”

“I – you can – touch me wherever you like,” Bucky gasped as her fingers trailed lower, outlining his rock-hard abdominal muscles, tracing into the grooves that formed a V down his pelvis. His cock was thick and flushed deep red, lying against his belly, twitching slightly as Skye’s fingers moved around it, not quite touching. “Please,” he groaned out, and then sucked in a harsh breath as Skye’s hand wrapped around him, giving one quick tug before gentling, stroking around the swollen head.

“Oh God, Skye,” he whimpered, unable to keep from jerking his hips.

“Sshh,” she gentled him, pressing kisses against his heated, feverish skin, her other hand smoothing his stomach, but he was too far gone. His cock throbbed in her hand, his own flesh hand coming down to suddenly grab hers and jerk it away as he spurted, thick jets of milky fluid pooling on his abs.

Bucky howled wordlessly, his hand holding Skye’s tight, his metal arm wrapping around her and clinging to her desperately as he came. He’d jerked off a few times since getting his own free will back – every time thinking of his soulmate, of her clear eyes, the gentleness in her face when she looked at him – but nothing compared to the touch of her soft skin against his, her voice soothing in his ears as she whispered loving words.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” he whimpered, coming back down to earth with the sickening feeling that he’d let Skye down.

“What on earth for?” she asked, genuine surprise in her tone, and he opened his eyes to see her looking at him with that loving, gentle expression and a sweet smile. “I came, then you came. That’s how sex works, Bucky, it doesn’t have to be – is _unlikely_ to be – mutual screaming orgasms.” She reached for the tissue box beside the bed, plucked a few free, wiped at the mess on his stomach carefully.

“Let – let me do that,” he muttered, taking the tissues from her. She grinned at him.

“If you don’t like tissues, I could clean it up with my tongue.”

“No!” but he was shockingly turned on by the thought, his cock suddenly starting to harden again. He bolted off the bed, rushed for the bathroom and closed the door behind him, leaning on it trembling. After a few moments he walked to the basin and washed off his stomach, before leaning his hands on the edge of the vanity and taking slow deep breaths.

He jumped when the door opened behind him. In the mirror, he watched Skye come in, watched her walk across the room behind him, open the shower cubicle and turn the water on before she looked at him, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

“Want to come and wash my back?” she arched a seductive eyebrow, and he absolutely couldn’t say no. He watched for a few moments, though, as she tested the spray with her hand, stepped into the shower and turned her face up into the water, her hair slicking instantly down to her shoulders. “It’s nice and warm,” Skye opened her eyes to look at Bucky. He was staring at her, motionless. “Your arm’s okay to get wet, isn’t it?” she thought to check, suddenly.

“Yes, fine,” he shrugged awkwardly, and then she took his breath away by picking up the soap and starting to lather it up in her hands before stroking the soft suds down over her breasts and flat belly.

 _His_ soap. His scent. All over her. Bucky didn’t even realise he was moving until he was right in front of Skye, and she reached out and pulled the shower door closed behind him.

“Here,” she put the soap into his hand and turned her back on him, sweeping her wet hair up in her hand and pulling if forward over her shoulder.

Bucky just stared, at the long expanse of sleek wet skin before him, the slight curves of Skye’s slim body. He swallowed dryly, and then reached tentatively with his flesh hand to begin washing Skye’s shoulders.

She leaned into him, making soft, sensual noises as his hand skimmed her skin, and he couldn’t help but reach around to soap her breasts once he’d finished her back. Skye moaned, begged him throatily to go on – rocked her bottom against his burgeoning arousal.

“Skye,” Bucky choked out, and she turned to face him, reached to put her hands on his shoulders, looked up at him, her eyelashes spiky with water.

“I bet your arm’s strong enough to hold me up while you fuck me up against the wall,” she challenged mischievously.

“You will _literally_ be the death of me,” Bucky groaned it, leaning down to put his forehead against hers, and she laughed and kissed him.

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Bucky?”

“Life with you is sure as hell gonna be an adventure, doll.” He hesitated. “Do you want me to use a condom?”

“They’re not terribly effective in water. You don’t need one. I know your bloods are clear – I checked with Simmons,” Skye blushed. “And you can’t get me pregnant.”

“You’re sure?” While children would be something he’d like to consider, one day, right now he felt that day should be a long way in the future.

“Definitely. I have an implant.”

He had no idea what that meant, but he trusted Skye to tell him the truth. “So – how’s this going to work?” He felt foolish for asking, but Skye clearly knew a lot more than he did.

Skye grinned. “Well, we don’t need to worry about arousing you again.”

They certainly didn’t. He was hard as a rock. “What about you?”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that either.” She gave him a sultry smirk. “So…” she lifted one leg, hitched her knee over his hip. “Pick me up.”

Bucky had his metal hand under her bottom and her body lifted in the air before she could even blink, and she gave a little squeak of surprise. “Oh – oh, you’re _really_ strong.”

“You’re light,” he dismissed. His arm, and his body, was engineered to lift far more than one slight girl who probably didn’t break a hundred pounds wringing wet – as she was now, her soft skin slippery against his as he took a small step forward and pressed her back lightly against the shower wall, leaning in to kiss her, his free hand caressing her breasts.

Skye moaned into Bucky’s mouth as he moved closer, his fingers playing lightly with her nipples. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled his hips into her, hitching herself a little higher against him with her arms around his neck until she had his tip positioned just against her entrance.

“ _Bozhe moi_ ,” Bucky groaned, burying his face in her hair as Skye began to sink slowly down on him.

The hot water rained down on both of them, plastered Bucky’s long hair to his stubbled cheeks, as Skye took him deeper, took all of him, smiling as Bucky moaned her name over and over again, interspersed with occasional snippets of guttural Russian she suspected were curse words. He was rocking his hips now, using his hand to lift and lower her against him, to set up a steady rhythm of thrusts that had heat coiling again inside Skye very quickly. She gasped and bit down on her lower lip; worked one hand down in between them. Bucky looked down, moved back a little to open the angle, and Skye put a finger on her clit and moved it in quick circles, putting her other hand to her breast to squeeze and tug at her nipple.

“ _Chort vozmi!_ ” The sight of Skye touching herself, of her full pink lips parted as she panted with lust, drove Bucky utterly insane. He increased his pace, the penetration of his thrusts, putting both hands on her hips and using his strength to slam into her to full depth over and over again until she was screaming his name, convulsing tightly around him, sleek wet muscles dragging on him in a tight, sucking, utterly irresistible grasp.

Bucky stiffened and _snarled_ , a low, harsh sound, his body stilling, and Skye _felt_ him spurt, felt the thick pulses travel up his cock to splatter deep inside her body. Her own orgasm was still ongoing, little shocks rippling through her, and she clung to Bucky like a lifeline, riding it out until at last she felt that she could get a deep breath, could think again.

Bucky was watching her, his blue eyes as soft and tender as she’d ever seen them, when she opened her eyes and looked at him at last.

“So,” Skye said a little flippantly, “how was your first time?”

Bucky grinned, a cocky smirk. “Not as good as the second time’s gonna be.” Carefully he eased her off him, set her on her feet, though he held onto her firmly.

“Oh, and why’s that?” Skye wasn’t sure it could _get_ a whole lot better. She wasn’t sure she would _survive_ if it did.

“Well, next time I’ll know what I’m doin’, won’t I?”

“You managed just fine, believe me.” Skye was still breathless from the intensity of her spectacular climax.

“Hmm. Why don’t we go into the bedroom and try that on the bed?” Bucky had his breath back now. “I’ve read about all sorts of interestin’ positions I’d like to try out, see if you like them.”

Skye’s eyes widened as she felt him hardening against her stomach again. She looked down in astonishment. “What – now? Already?”

Bucky gave her a blank look. “Sure. Why not?”

“Oh my God,” Skye realised, “there really is such a thing as a super-soldier refractory period!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sorry this one took so long, guys. Kept getting completely and utterly stuck, but here it is at last!**
> 
> **Next one up will be Skye/Rumlow, as requested by Kat, B(Ao3), Lia, Diaz, EllaC., Annie, Val9, hopelesslygeeky, Liss_Howlett, Shingalala, lillyrosenight, Isla_Singer, alecksanduhrah, sagebows and shondasiamccoy. Honestly, you think you guys would have had enough fix of this pairing with Stockholm Syndrome and FWOAN, but noooo. All right. More hot RumSkye action coming up soon ;)**


	13. Skye/Rumlow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Continues from[Chapter 48, _I Bid Your Soulmate_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/6779993).**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As requested by Kat, B(Ao3), Lia, Diaz, EllaC., Annie, Val9, hopelesslygeeky, Liss_Howlett, Shingalala, lillyrosenight, Isla_Singer, alecksanduhrah, sagebows and shondasiamccoy.**
> 
> **Trigger warnings for this chapter: I do see Rumlow as very Dominant, so there’s Dom/sub dynamics explored here within the context of the soulmate relationship. Hopefully I won’t get it as horribly wrong as a certain EL James – and please, let me know if I do!**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/hqdefault_zps6cc4dd86.jpg.html)

“I’d burn the fucking world down for your sake,” Brock confessed raggedly, his forehead pressed to hers.

“I know. I promise I won’t ask you to.” Skye looked up into his eyes, an unusual shade of golden-brown, like expensive whisky. He lifted his head, nodded slowly. His thumbs were still caressing her cheeks gently.

“Good,” Brock’s mouth twisted in a small smile. “I’m pretty sure the other Avengers would try to stop me.”

She smiled at his little joke, and he reached up, took her hands in his and guided her gently back to her seat.

“Please,” he said quietly, “will you tell me about you? I want to get to know you.”

He was easy to talk to, a good listener, free with information about himself in return, and somehow Skye wasn’t surprised to find out that he’d grown up in foster care too. He was unapologetic about the fact that his mother had been a prostitute who died of a drug overdose, his father unknown, and by the time he ended up in the system he’d been an irredeemable little shit. He’d never stuck in any one place, had wound up on the streets, and a few years later a judge had given him a choice between adult jail or the military.

“It was the first discipline I’d ever had,” Brock admitted. Skye was watching him, leaning her chin on her hand, her dark brown eyes intent on his face. He wanted to touch her, wanted to love her, wanted _everything_ with her, but she’d need time first. Time to get to know him, to trust him. So he listened while she spoke, answered her questions, told her things he’d never told another soul. And when Coulson came back into the café, told her they had to go, Brock stood and gallantly held Skye’s jacket for her to put on. His fingers just brushed the nape of her neck and she shivered before turning back to face him.

“Two minutes,” Skye said to Coulson, who nodded and left them alone to say their farewells.

“I have something for you,” Brock said, slipping a hand inside his jacket and removing the gift he’d bought for her from the inside pocket. He’d been hesitant to give it to her, considering what it symbolized, but – from everything she’d told him, her desire to _belong_ matched his desperate need to have someone who was _his_ , and _only_ his. He mentally crossed his fingers and sent up a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening as she took the flat black box from his hand.

“Thank you!” Skye said, delighted at the gesture, “that’s so sweet of you!” The metal box was slim, no bigger than a business card case. She found the little finger catches on one side and popped it open.

Brock couldn’t stand the silence as she looked into the box. He shoved his hands into his pocket, bit on the inside of his cheek until it bled. Did she understand? Would she be offended, would she turn and walk away…?

“Will you put it on me?” Skye asked softly, and he blew out the breath he’d been holding.

“You really want to wear it?”

“I can think of nothing I’d like better.” Her eyes were soft and luminous as she gazed up at him, and he reached into the box and took out the necklace, his fingers shaking.

It looked like a simple lariat necklace, silver or platinum perhaps. Brock knew it was neither; Stark had made it for him from vibranium, to his exact specifications. The stone that appeared to be a cut crystal dangling from the thick loop at the end was actually a superbly cut, flawless diamond. It was a king’s ransom he gently looped around Skye’s neck, though she didn’t know it. The weight of the diamond tugged the lariat tighter, making the necklace a delicate collar around her slender throat, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe as she asked softly;

“Did you get me a leash, too?”

“Would you want one?” he managed to get out, his voice gruffer and deeper than usual.

“Oh yes,” she whispered back, her eyes locked with his. “I’ve been waiting all my life for that one person I could trust to give myself over to completely. You completed that list, you made yourself an Avenger, all for me. Who could I ever trust more?”

Brock was so hard he didn’t dare move or he was going to have an accident in his pants.

And then Coulson said behind him; “Skye, we have to go.”

Skye’s mouth tightened. “Coming, DC,” she said, and she tucked the necklace inside her shirt. Where Brock knew the diamond would dangle between her breasts. Reaching up, she touched his lips lightly with her forefinger.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “I’ll call you as soon as I can get away.”

He couldn’t move for a solid five minutes after she’d left. It wasn’t until Thor came in looking for him that he was able to regain a small semblance of his control.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was an agonizing few days to wait, for Brock. The other Avengers were well aware of what was going on and were at pains to try and keep him distracted, but there were no missions going on and he could only spar with Rogers and shoot with Barton for so many hours in a day. Stark tried to keep him busy by building him amusing new weapons, but nothing really kept his mind off Skye for very long.

Finally, he got a text message from an unknown number. _Meet me at the Plaza. Tonight 7pm. Give your name at the front desk._

He didn’t have any plans, but if he had he’d have blown them off without a second thought. He dithered like a kid on his first date, ended up going to Natasha and asking for her help to choose what to wear. He was quite sure that she was laughing at him behind his back, but she didn’t to his face, and she did help him pick out some nice clothes, a dark green shirt with a thin gold pinstripe she claimed set off his eyes, black dress pants, polished black motorcycle boots and his favourite old black leather jacket. Looking him over critically, she nodded finally.

“You could stand to shave, though.”

He rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, nodded. He’d shaved that morning but his stubble grew ridiculously fast, and Skye’s skin was soft. Sensitive. He erased the thought as Natasha’s eyebrows quirked at him.

“Thank you for your help,” he said instead.

“Be gentle with her,” was Natasha’s parting shot as she left his apartment.

Brock was at the Plaza on time, ten minutes early to be exact. He headed for the front desk and gave his name, got an envelope in return. Walking away from the desk, he saw the receptionist lift the phone handset and grinned. Skye obviously had something planned.

Ripping open the envelope, he found a keycard and a slip of paper with a room number on it. Well, he was more than willing to play this game. He headed for the elevator with a quick, eager spring to his step.

Opening to door to the allotted room, he found a quiet, dimly lit apartment. The living area was straight ahead, tea-light candles on the low table the only light. There was a tray on the table with covered dishes; he lifted lids on a few, found tiny, bite-sized delicacies; chocolate-dipped strawberries, small savoury pastries, fresh sushi in an ice-dish. There was a bottle of champagne in an ice-bucket too, but no sign of Skye. The room was empty. Sliding doors to his right were closed; he reached out, opened them, and lost his breath.

Skye knelt on the floor in front of a big bed. Candles on the side tables and spaced around the room imbued her skin with a soft golden glow. She wore the most gorgeous lingerie set he’d ever seen, black lace teddy with a plunging neckline, garters holding up fishnet stockings, fine black lace thong panties barely covering her sex, revealing the soft pale globes of her buttocks. The necklace he’d given her was drawn close around her neck, the diamond glimmering between her breasts.

She looked up at him. Lifted one hand and took hold of the diamond, offered it up on her palm.

Brock stood immobile for a moment, utterly stunned. Finally he put his hand in his jacket pocket and took out the leash Stark had made to match the collar.

Skye’s lips parted on a soft sigh and she leaned forward eagerly. The click of the leash was loud in the quiet room as it snapped onto the sturdy loop the diamond hung suspended from, the sound followed immediately by Skye’s moan of satisfaction.

“There’s my good girl,” Brock said gently, and tugged lightly on the leash.

She came to him gladly. Laid her cheek against the outside of his thigh and rubbed against him like a cat, purring softly as he caressed her hair lightly.

“You may speak,” Brock said then, realizing she was probably waiting for his permission.

“Master,” Skye gasped out, “please, Master, tell me what you want from me? Tell me how to please you.”

His long, strong hands stroked her hair, ran down to curve over her cheek, tip her chin up to look at him.

“You please me very much without even trying,” he rumbled softly, smiling, and the smile she gave him in return was breathtaking. “Come,” he tugged gently on the leash, and she followed him eagerly as he moved to a chair at the side of the room, turned it away from the small table, seated himself comfortably. “Stand up and turn around, let me look at you.” He didn’t let go of the leash as she slowly obeyed, and the shining metal glided smoothly over her skin.

“You’re very lovely,” Brock murmured, his eyes drinking her in. “Did you buy these things for me?”

Skye nodded shyly. “Do you like them, Master?”

“I adore them. You chose well.” He looped the leash over his wrist, reached out to put his hands on her hips and draw her closer, parting his thighs and pulling her forward until her knees were right up against the chair, his legs pressing firmly against the outside of hers. He had a satchel slung over his shoulder, shrugged it off now and put it on the table. “I bought some things for you too.” He nodded at the satchel. “Open it.”

“Thank you, Master, but you already gave me this most beautiful gift,” she reached up, touched the clasp where the leash connected to her lariat.

He pulled lightly, snugged the choke chain a little tighter around her neck. “I gave you an order.” His voice was low and firm.

“Yes, Master!” her dark brown eyes opened wide and she reached for the satchel instantly, opening it. Brock reached out and tipped the bag up, spilling the contents onto the table.

“Ohhhh,” Skye whispered as she stared at the gifts he’d brought for her. Beautifully tooled leather cuffs. A silk blindfold. A feather tickler – a set of anal plugs – a silver bullet – a larger vibrator with rabbit ears – adjustable nipple clamps – a cat o’nine tails with soft suede leather strips – a short coil of soft cotton rope. Her eyes slid back to Brock, pupils flared huge with desire. “Oh _please_.”

“What do you want, angel?” He slid a hand around her waist, drew her to sit on his knee. She leaned into him trustingly, curving her body against his, tucking her head under his chin.

“All of it,” Skye whispered, trying not to faint with delight from the sheer _comfort_ of his embrace. He was so warm and so _strong_ , his scent surrounding her, leather and spice, making her head spin with need. “I want all of it. All of _you_.”

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” he stroked his big hand along her thigh. “But you already know I’d find a way to get you the moon if you asked for it, don’t you, angel?”

Skye made no response. Only nuzzled her face closer against his neck, brought one hand up shyly to caress at his skin at the open collar of his shirt. She could feel how hard he was through the thin material of his dress pants, hot and thick against her hip. Rejoiced in the way his breath hitched slightly.

“May I?” she whispered quietly, toying with the top fastened button.

“Yes.” His voice had dropped. Thickened. She could almost _taste_ his hunger as she slipped the button free, reached for the next, leaning back slightly to give herself room to unfasten them all the way down. Finally she had them all open, spread his shirt and jacket back, gazing with pleasure at his thickly muscled chest, his hard, lean body.

“I’m so lucky,” Skye said quietly, “I feel so honoured, to be soulmate to an Avenger.”

“I’m only an Avenger because of you, angel. It’s me who’s the lucky one.” He stood suddenly, easily, taking her with him, hefted in his powerfully muscular arms. Stepped forward to lay her down on the bed before shrugging out of his shirt and jacket, throwing them carelessly aside. “You are the most beautiful sight I’ve ever been privileged to lay eyes on,” he rumbled, feasting his gaze on her.

Skye smiled up at him. “I’m yours, Brock,” she said. “All yours.”

He clenched his fists. Glad he’d taken precautions this time, because she affected him too strongly. Moving back, he glanced at the table. Picked up the blindfold and leather cuffs, smiled as he heard Skye’s gasp of anticipation behind him.

“On your knees,” he ordered, and she obeyed at once, putting her hands behind her.

Brock put the cuffs on first, testing that they weren’t too tight, wouldn’t chafe her wrists. They were padded with the softest lambswool; he’d made them for her himself. A simple clip secured them together at the small of her back. He followed with the blindfold, highest quality black silk.

“I’m not going to gag you,” he said softly, running his finger along her lower lip. “I like to hear the sounds you’ll make. You can make as much noise as you want, Skye, say anything you like. Tell me your safeword.”

She laughed. “I won’t need a safeword!”

“You might. This could get pretty intense.” He leaned in and kissed her, slow and hot, tongue caressing her mouth. She was panting and shivering when he pulled back, and he said “Traffic lights, then. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for all good, yes?”

“Yes, yes, green, please, more!”

“Sshh.” Carefully, he moved around behind her, taking the leash around to the back of her neck. Removed it from his wrist and wound it around her cuffs, tugging until her back was just a little arched, her head tipped back slightly. “All right?” he checked.

“Green,” Skye moaned. She could feel her slick soaking through her panties, wetting her thighs.

“My angel,” Brock murmured deeply, before getting off the bed and moving back to the table. He paused for a moment, deliberately rattled a couple of things making his selection. Heard a needy whine from Skye and smiled.

How could he be so _patient_? Skye was getting more frantic by the second, couldn’t understand how Brock didn’t feel the same way. How he hadn’t already stripped her bare and fucked hard into her. She keened as she felt him get back onto the bed, kneel behind her, felt his warm breath on her neck a moment before he kissed her there, tongue and teeth seeking out the most sensitive spots. Skye moaned and rolled her head to the side to give him better access, her moan deepening as the movement tugged on her choke chain.

Big hands cupped over her breasts, plucked the lace down a little to reveal her nipples. Brock rumbled in his throat as he squeezed the swollen, aching buds lightly in his fingertips. Skye panted, leaning her head back against his shoulder and arching a little further into his touch. Unable to see, she could only feel him, hear his softly murmured words of praise as she responded.

“Please,” she whimpered, and there was a sudden cold pinch at her right nipple.

“Tell me if it’s too tight,” Brock growled against her neck.

“N-no – oh God,” as he let go and she realized the clamp was weighted. She shuddered, and he steadied her with a firm hand against her upper stomach, pressing her shoulders back against his chest.

“Colour.”

“G-green – please do the other one.”

“Impatient little minx.” He nipped at her throat lightly, licked her earlobe. “So lovely. I wish you could see yourself. Next time, we’re doing this in front of a mirror, without the blindfold.”

She sobbed at the thought of seeing him looming large and dark and so tender behind her, his powerful hands incredibly gentle as he attached the other nipple clamp.

“I’m going to make you come now,” Brock whispered in Skye’s ear, and she gave a little wail. “Just let go for me, angel.” He picked up the little silver bullet vibrator he’d laid on the bed, took it around to her front. Both hands over her groin, he plucked her thong gently aside, switched on the bullet and positioned it carefully before putting her panties back in place and pressing his hand over them.

Skye’s breath came out in a little scream, her thighs clenched around his hand, and he felt a gush of slick as she came hard, her lithe body convulsing in his grip. He didn’t let up the pressure, though, keeping the bullet in place and holding onto her tightly until she came a second time.

“Y-yellow,” Skye sobbed as his hand didn’t move and the bullet began to feel painful against her over-sensitized clit.

At once Brock eased back on his grip. Let the bullet drop away from her, though held by her panties, it still touched her lightly. She whined and writhed, and he popped the bullet out and switched it off.

“You meant _red_ , Skye. Use the right word.”

“I’m sorry, Master,” she panted.

Brock dropped the bullet aside, eased his hand into Skye’s panties instead. She was slick and soaking, his fingers gliding easily over swollen, throbbing flesh. Very slowly, he pushed two fingers deep into her core, his thumb caressing lightly over her clit at the same time.

“Please,” Skye babbled, “please, please, please, Brock, Master, I need you to fuck me. I _need_ it. I need _you_.”

He groaned, his control utterly shot. Glanced at the other toys on the table. _Later_ , he told himself. Plenty of time for all that. He needed to possess Skye now, to feel her small body wrapped around his, hear her breathy cries as he claimed her for his own.

“I got you, angel,” he reassured quietly. Slipping his hand out of her panties, kissing her neck to soothe her when she cried out with loss, he reached down and released the clip securing her wrist cuffs together, taking the strain off the leash at the same time.

Skye gasped with loss, her body dropping forward, her hands clawing behind her, desperate to touch him, but he was already anticipating what she needed, flipping her to her back, pulling away the blindfold and coming down atop her. She was able to wrap her arms around him and cling to his broad shoulders, anchor herself to him.

Brock kissed her, tongue tracing her lips before plunging between them hard, mimicking what he planned to do to her body with his cock very shortly. Skye clutched at him and made needy sounds in her throat, rubbing her crotch against his groin. Probably soaking the front of his pants, not that he gave a shit about that.

“Gotta get my pants off, angel,” he mumbled between kisses. “You wanna take all this off?” he plucked at the lacy teddy. _Couldn’t be all that comfortable_ , he thought.

“Whatever you want,” Skye gasped out, gazing up at him. He was magnificent, hugely muscled and darkly menacing, but his expression was tender as he stared down at her.

“You’re beautiful – incredible – in it, but I want to see all of you. Want all that soft skin on mine.”

“Take it off then,” Skye pleaded, and he nodded, his eyes still on hers. Took his time moving back and reaching for her suspenders first, unclipping them and rolling off her stockings one at a time, taking the momentary slowdown as a good opportunity to try and get back his breath, his control.

Only, the more of her soft, creamy skin he exposed, the more difficult that was. She’d waxed herself bare for him, which he’d certainly felt with his hand in her panties, but the sight of her all wet and pink and needy for him as she lifted her hips eagerly to let him remove the last scraps of lace covering her – well, it would have taken a stronger man than Brock Rumlow to resist pushing his face into her crotch, lapping thirstily, drinking the sweet nectar of her arousal.

Skye’s hands came down to clutch at his hair as his hot tongue laved her clit, running her fingers into the thick black strands she held on tightly, gasping out his name.

“So delicious, angel,” Brock mumbled, curling his tongue up into her pussy, his upper lip worrying lightly at her clit. The vibrations of his voice travelled straight through Skye to her core, making her shudder and tug at his hair frantically.

“Please,” she begged.

He smiled against her and lifted his head, nuzzled at her thigh a moment before moving away, sitting on the end of the bed to remove his boots and pants. “Do you want me to use a condom?” he asked quietly. “I’ve been tested, I’m clean.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m safe,” Skye couldn’t bear the thought of even that little barrier between them. She reached out her arms to him imploringly, and, as he turned back towards her, gasped, because he was wearing a cock ring. He looked huge, impressively erect, flushed deeply red with arousal.

“Had to, angel,” Brock grinned as he saw her wide eyes, “or I’d’ve embarrassed myself.”

She had to smile as he leaned back down over her, pressed a kiss to one swollen, aching nipple before gently releasing the weighted clamp.

“Oh God, oh God,” Skye arched helplessly. “Nn, nn!” she degenerated to wordless whimpers as he removed the other, suckled the throbbing nub gently into his mouth. She clutched at him frantically, trying to pull him up over her, into her, trying to get as much of her skin as she could in contact with him. Finally, blessedly, he moved, pushing up between her thighs, thick blunt tip intruding into the wet mouth of her passage making her sob with relief.

She was so small, and though he’d aroused her thoroughly she was still tight, a rippling clamp of slippery-wet internal muscles on his already agonizingly swollen cock. But the leather straps were tight enough around his balls that he couldn’t come, not yet; he’d have to release them first and he wasn’t ready to do that, wanted to feel Skye come on him first. Which wouldn’t take long at all, he suspected; as he slowly pushed deep inside her, she was quivering and clutching at him, making little breathy plaintive mewling sounds.

“I got you,” he gritted, “I got you, my angel.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Skye almost yowled it.

“ _My_ angel,” Brock realized what he’d said, why she reacted that way. “Mine,” it was a low, possessive growl as he pressed his face against her neck, grabbed the chain there in his teeth and yanked lightly. “ _Mine!_ ” as he began to thrust his hips, long swift strokes plunging in and out of Skye, driving her up hard and fast. She screamed, a long, high, wordless ululation, tightening around him until he just about saw stars.

He slowed his pace, dropped back to gentle little thrusts, waiting for her to come down, slowly stilling to a stop, pressed deep inside her. Filling her. _Possessing_ her.

“So good,” Skye whimpered, and he smiled, leaning forward to kiss her swollen lips.

“I have so much more for you, my angel.”

“Yours,” she whispered, giving herself over to him with such utter trust he felt humbled and awed by it.

“Gonna make you all mine,” he told her huskily, kissing her again between words. “Fill you up with my come and put my scent all over you. Put my marks on you, make sure every man who sees you knows you belong to someone.”

She was beyond speech, beyond rational thought. Could only cry out desperately as he eased back a little way, putting a hand between them, behind to unsnap the straps tight around his balls.

Brock groaned as the pressure eased. He wouldn’t be able to hold out long now, would be on the verge of climax in moments, so he moved his hand up a little way and started scissoring his fingers over Skye’s clit.

She hadn’t really come down from the last orgasm, was still coasting along on an incredible high as Brock spoke his deliciously possessive words. His fingers on her clit absolutely shattered her, raw primal sounds bursting out of her as the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced ripped her apart.

Brock lost himself completely as Skye tremored under him, juices squirting over his fingers and the base of his cock – no, it wasn’t Skye tremoring, it was _him_ , his whole body quaking as vibrations suddenly rippled through him from her hands on his shoulders, an astonishingly pleasurable sensation.

Much later he would realize that her power had matched itself to the natural frequency of his body in her moment of extremity, but at the time all he knew was that he’d never felt such mind-blowing ecstasy. He stiffened, hot streams of his seed blasting up from his balls through his cock and jetting deep inside Skye, Brock’s eyes rolling back in his head as he groaned gutturally, his hands holding Skye’s hips tightly.

They clung to each other, Brock slowly dropping to his elbows, keeping the bulk of his weight off Skye but still pressed against her along the full length of their bodies. She sighed with happiness, stroking his thick dark hair at the back of his head, happier than she’d ever been in her life, because at last, at long last, she was utterly sure that she truly _belonged_ to someone, this darkly handsome, powerful man who’d proven that he would do _anything_ for her sake before he even laid eyes on her.

And they hadn’t even bonded yet! She moaned softly at the thought.

“Am I crushing you, angel?” Brock reared back to look down at her.

“No! No, I like your weight on me. I was just – thinking about bonding with you.” She said it a little shyly, but holding his gaze, saw his eyes darken and his lips curve into a hungry smile.

“We’ll get to that,” he promised darkly. “This – this was just to take the edge off. I’m afraid you made anything resembling rational thought leak right out of my mind when I walked in and saw you kneeling there.”

Skye giggled at that, and he leaned down and kissed her soundly. “You’re a delightful little minx. I can see I shall have my hands full keeping you in line.”

She fluttered her eyelashes and smirked, deliberately tightening her pelvic floor muscles to squeeze on his still half-hard cock deep inside her, causing him to growl deep in his chest.

“Think you’re up to the challenge, Brock?” Skye teased.

“I will most _definitely_ be up for the challenge.” Gently, he shifted his balance to take his weight on one arm, hooked a finger through her necklace and tugged. “Because you’re _mine_ , angel. And whatever I have to do to remind of you of that? I will make sure I do.”

She touched his forearm, tanned, scarred, corded with muscle. The black words written along it in her loopy script. “I know you will.”

He eased back from her slowly, slipping out of her. Got off the bed with easy grace and went back to the living area, returning with the bottle of champagne in one hand, a single glass in the other. He made a second trip to return with the tray of delicacies.

“Mm,” Skye sat up, pulling a sheet around her, and reached for a piece of sushi. Brock smacked her hand lightly.

“Oh no you don’t, missy.”

She gave him huge eyes, and he grinned and picked up the sushi himself. “Let me feed you.”

“Ohhh,” Skye melted. Took the morsel from his fingers, her eyes closing with bliss. “Thank you, Master,” she murmured after she’d chewed and swallowed, glancing up at him through her lashes. He fed her another bite without comment, reached to open the champagne, poured a glass and brought it to her lips. She sipped, looking at him over the rim, watched as he drank too.

Brock fed Skye from his hand, several more morsels before she asked “Aren’t you hungry too?”

“Mm-hm,” he nodded agreement. Smiled wickedly. “But I don’t like the plates.”

Skye’s brow furrowed in confusion, and then she gasped as he pressed her gently to lie down, stripped the sheet off her with an easy sweep of his hand, and set a piece of sushi on the upper slope of her left breast. He took his time eating it off her, sucking a slow hickey into her skin afterwards, making Skye writhe and moan beneath him.

“Hm,” Brock smiled and reached for a chocolate-dipped strawberry, flicking it tantalizingly over Skye’s lower lip before removing it, tracing it down between her breasts, making slow circles over her stomach until the chocolate began to melt against her skin. “Bite,” he told Skye, holding the strawberry to her lips again, and as she ate it he bent his head and slowly licked away the trail of chocolate he’d left behind.

She was writhing and panting with need by the time he’d eaten another piece of sushi off her, off her other breast this time, and he smirked darkly down at her. “You need keeping busy while I eat, angel. Come here.”

She didn’t resist as he pulled her up the bed, pulled her hands one on each side of the post that secured the headboard to the bed in the centre, clipped the cuffs she was still wearing back together. Watched him as he went to the table, returned with the bottle of lube, the soft cotton rope – and the rabbit-eared vibrator.

“Oh God,” Skye said, wide-eyed, and he grinned and knelt between her legs.

“Remember those safe words, angel.”

“Y-yes,” she panted as he lubed the vibrator up and inserted it slowly inside her. But he hadn’t switched it on yet, and Skye blinked as he reached for the rope. Suddenly she realised what he planned to do. “I don’t know, Brock…”

“Safe words,” he told her as he efficiently bound her legs together from the knees up, adjusting the vibrator to sit snugly between her thighs.

“Green,” she whispered at last as he finished securing the knots and sat back to look at her.

“Good girl,” Brock praised quietly, laid a small savoury pastry on her stomach and bent to eat it off her. As he licked crumbs off her skin, he stealthily flicked a button on the remote control concealed in his palm.

Skye yelped as the vibrator began to twitch inside her suddenly, an irregular rhythm. Brock chuckled against her stomach, flicked another switch, and the rabbit ears began to tickle and tease at her clit.

Brock sat back, reached for the champagne glass. Sipped and relaxed, watching Skye moan and writhe, unable to get away from the teasing, tantalising movements of the toy secured inside her. Wetting his finger in the champagne, he traced it over her lips lightly, smiling as she tried to lick and suck at his finger.

“Please,” Skye whimpered. The vibrator’s movements were too slow, too irregular, she couldn’t come. “Please, I need more.”

“All you had to do was ask, angel.” He turned a dial on the remote control. “Though you should be careful what you wish for.”

Skye yowled as the toy began to buzz insistently; the orgasm was fast and forced and the sensation too intense as she started to come down. “Red, red!” she panted frantically.

“Good girl,” Brock praised, hitting a button. Everything stopped and Skye gasped with relief, her breaths quick and hard as Brock released the rope, slipped the vibrator out of her, unclasped her hands and drew her into his arms. She lay against his chest, recovering slowly as he stroked her hair, hummed soothingly to her, his hands gentle as he petted and stroked her, whispering softly possessive words of praise.

“I want the bond,” Brock said quietly when he felt Skye was calm. “I need to know without the words when it’s getting to be too much for you. I – I can’t take it when it’s too much for you.” It had been horrible for him to realise that the pleasure had tipped over into pain for her. He needed to know faster, needed not to have to wait for her to safeword out.

“Ummm,” she murmured languidly, feeling incredibly safe and warm in his arms. “Yes. Yes please. They’re on the back of my thigh, high up.”

“I saw them,” he agreed. Just under the curve of her ass. And he knew exactly how he wanted to fuck her for the words to meet. Getting off the bed, drawing her with him gently, he sat down in the chair he’d occupied first, with her sitting in his lap. It was a sturdy padded chair without arms, making it easy for Skye to straddle his lap while facing him, the diamond on her necklace dangling between them. He took her leash in his hand and tugged lightly, pulling her closer, before looping it loosely around his neck to tether them together and taking her hips in his hands, lifting her up and straight down to impale her on his erection, thrusting deep on the first pass.

“Brock!” Skye wailed his name, clutching at his shoulders.

“Skye,” he gritted in return, holding her steady for a moment. “Are you ready?”

“Y-yes,” she was getting her breath back, but still clung to him. “ _Please_.”

He leaned forward to capture her lips, kissed her hungrily. Nipped lightly at her plump lower lip, making her keen into his mouth as he began to lift and lower her on his cock, the muscles of his arms and chest rippling as he moved her easily. The orgasm built fast, despite it being his second time tonight; Skye felt too good wrapped around him, the noises she made as he fucked deep into her the sweetest music to his ears.

“Brock,” Skye sobbed, clawing at his shoulders, pressing frantic kisses against his mouth. “Please. So close. Please.”

He shifted his grip with one hand, hefted her a little higher and slid his forearm under her ass.

They both cried out in astonishment as the bond exploded into being between them, forged in ecstasy, binding them together for all time, the mutual need only the other could fulfil utterly satisfied at long last.

“ _Mine_ ,” Brock groaned against Skye’s lips, his hips jerking as he spurted deep inside her, and she gasped;

“ _Yours_ ,” in return, clinging to him like a limpet, her body clenching hard around him, leaving her wrung out and limp when the storm of sensation passed, collapsed in the safety of his arms as he held her close.

He finally understood, now, what it was to have a bonded soulmate. It felt as though a part of him that he’d never known was missing had finally clicked into place, felt as though for the first time in his life he was _whole_. And it was all down to the small, slender woman in his arms, her cheek resting on his shoulder, her breaths quick and light on his neck. He never wanted to let her go. Not for a single minute.

“My angel,” Brock said softly against Skye’s hair, and she tightened her hold on him. Her fingers snagged on the leash looped lightly around his neck and she caught hold of it, tugged lightly to tighten the chain that bound them together. The collar and leash he had given her went both ways; it symbolised his possession of her, but it was Skye’s choice to wear it and she did so with pride, certain now that he was worthy of her utmost trust.

“I love you,” she whispered back, the words inadequate for the all-encompassing emotions she felt for him, but knowing that he would understand the sentiment behind them, just as she had understood what he was truly asking when he first offered her the necklace.

His lips were warm and tender against hers, his strong hands gentle as he stroked her back, her hair, and from somewhere he found the four words that truly expressed what she meant to him.

“You are my _everything_.”

 

**WELL. I just wrote over 6,000 words of RumSkye fluff and smut and even more smut and a bit of BDSM thrown in there – in one day. And now I’m off to convince my husband that it’s in his best interests to go to bed early tonight. Enjoy the rest of your day, darlings!**

**Next one up will be Jemma/Matt Murdock, as voted for by Elliesmeow, Wynn, darklou91, Greennonmonster, nancy, Mariana + SarahJaneDoctor, Chey, bumble.bee.kawaii, Pleeeeease, SarahJaneDoctor, Vassy11, boater, Kat, YviJoy, Val9, Annie, superhero_heart, AsSheGropesMyKnee , JocastaSilver and Rilesta! Phew! Apparently quite a few of you want to read Matt feeling his way around his soulmate – I shall do my best but it’s going to be a couple of days at least as I have Visitors at the moment, sorry.**


	14. Jemma/Matt Murdock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Continued from[Chapter 138, Dumpster Diving](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/8852704)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As voted for by Elliesmeow, Wynn, darklou91, Greennonmonster, nancy, Mariana, SarahJaneDoctor, Chey, bumble.bee.kawaii, Pleeeeease, SarahJaneDoctor, Vassy11, boater, Kat, YviJoy, Val9, Annie, superhero_heart, AsSheGropesMyKnee , JocastaSilver and Rilesta**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/matt%20murdock_zpsa17lk6qj.jpg.html)

Phil of course had freaked out on hearing her voice on the phone, and less than twenty minutes later May was stalking into Matt’s apartment with Skye and _oh no_ Fitz hard on her heels. Fitz fell on Jemma’s neck, hugging her frantically. She hugged him back, aware of Matt behind her drawing silently away. She’d already concluded that he had incredibly good hearing, so he was undoubtedly making out all of Fitz’s babbled protestations of love, even in the tearfully thick Scottish stammer in which they were delivered.

Jemma had her hands full with Fitz and she really couldn’t hear what May and Skye were saying to Matt as they backed him up in a corner. Matt didn’t look uncomfortable, though, talking easily and calmly, a slight smile on his face, and after a few moments Skye’s body language relaxed and she turned back to look at Jemma, a slight smile on her face which morphed into sadness when she looked at Fitz.

It took May a little longer, but eventually she and Matt seemed to reach some sort of agreement and she turned away and came stalking back over to Jemma.

“Let go of her, Fitz. Come on, we need to get out of here,” she told Jemma brusquely.

“But Matt…”

“Agent Simmons, you need to talk to the Director first,” was May’s cryptic response.

Jemma sighed, recognising May’s implacable expression, and nodded. “I’ll just say goodbye,” she said, gently disengaging from Fitz.

Matt seemed to know she was coming to him; a small smile grew on his face as she stopped in front of him and he held out his hand. She put hers into it unthinkingly, let out a little gasp as he lifted it gallantly to his lips, pressed a light kiss against her knuckles. “I’ll see you soon, Jemma.”

“I hope so,” she said miserably.

Matt’s smile grew. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”

She had the oddest feeling that there was something very important that she was missing. Secrets; that seemed to be her life these days. “Well – try not to get beat up again, please?”

“I’ll try. And you, no more getting sucked into alien artefacts, hmm?”

“Ugh,” she shuddered involuntarily at the memory of the oily black waves dragging her in. “I am never going near that thing again, believe me!”

“Good.” He let go of her hand then, May said her name, and Jemma really had no choice but to leave, looking back over her shoulder several times at the man standing in the middle of the room, his eyes closed but his head turned towards her as though he could see her anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?” Jemma said incredulously. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Coulson, he’s _blind_! He can’t _possibly_ be a masked solo crimefighter!”

For answer, he slid a tablet across the desk. Jemma reluctantly looked down. It was a Gifted Index file – _what?_ – and the photo – was _definitely_ Matt. She leaned in closer and stared.

“He first crossed our radar about six years ago,” Coulson said quietly. “Patrolling the area near Columbia when he was at law school there. The incidence of street crime and sexual assault had dropped to practically zero and a flag popped up on a computer in the statistics department noting a possible vigilante operating in the area. We sent Agent Barton to investigate, he was between missions at the time. I was so intrigued by Barton’s report that I went to pay Murdock a visit myself.”

Jemma was listening, but reading at the same time, a skill she’d long since mastered. _Exposure to an unknown cocktail of toxic chemicals caused complete loss of sight but appears to have enhanced his aural acuity to an unprecedented degree_ , she read. _Other senses may be similarly affected. Murdock is able, if he wishes, to pass for a sighted person due to his uncanny abilities._

She kept reading as Phil fell silent. “St. Agnes’ Orphanage?” she said suddenly, lifting her head. “Isn’t that where Skye…?”

“Yes, and Skye remembers him, a little. He’s a few years older than she is, but she remembers a blind teenager who was always studying.”

“Hm.” Jemma set the tablet down, finally. “He’s my soulmate, sir,” she said quietly. “I don’t understand how or why, but… his words are on my arm. In Braille. And mine are on him.”

“May told me.” Coulson steepled his fingers together, looked at her over them. “SHIELD policy on soulmates is very clear, Simmons. Murdock isn’t SHIELD, but he does know about us – so you have the option to bring him in. We could use him, and his little law firm. Most definitely. They could remain nominally independent but be on secret retainer for us, to represent anyone we send to them who might need legal assistance without SHIELD’s name being involved.”

It was either that or she would have to leave, Jemma knew. “How long do I have, sir?”

“I’m writing you up for two weeks’ leave. At the end of it, I need a decision. From both of you.” Coulson nodded briskly, then stood and opened the door for her. “Bring him in, Simmons,” he said in a kind tone. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

“I should talk to Fitz before I go,” it occurred to her then.

“No,” Coulson said firmly. “There is no way that you can break this to him kindly, Jemma.” He’d dropped into his ‘dad’ persona, Jemma realised as he used her first name. “He’s got friends around him who will make it as easy on him as we can. Now go. Be with your soulmate. I assure you he’s waiting eagerly for your return.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the middle of the day when Jemma returned to Hell’s Kitchen, armed with an address for Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys At Law. She entered the office hesitantly, dragging her small suitcase. A pretty redhead looked up from a computer and smiled at her.

“Good morning – no, it’s afternoon now, isn’t it? How may I help you?”

“A client!” a door opened and a man bounced in. Jemma couldn’t help but smile at his eager attitude. This must be Mr. Nelson, Matt’s partner. “Don’t frighten her off, Karen!”

“ _Foggy_ ,” Karen rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I’m not a client, I’m afraid,” Jemma said. “I’m – here to see Matt?”

“Hello, Jemma,” a soft voice said, and she turned to see him standing in another doorway, dressed in a smart suit, round dark glasses covering his eyes. He smiled, that small, slow, private smile she remembered from the previous evening, and she melted. Walked straight to him, into the comfort of his embrace as his arms curved around her, both of them uncaring of the exclamations of Karen and Foggy behind them as their lips met for the first time.

Foggy wanted them all to go out to celebrate Matt finding his soulmate, once he realised who Jemma was (“ _How could you not mention it!”_ he’d shrieked when Matt sheepishly confessed) but Karen, who Jemma rapidly assessed as being definitely the most socially capable of the group, promptly vetoed the idea and told Foggy that he’d be spending the afternoon deciphering some terrible notes he’d asked her to type up while Matt had the afternoon off.

Jemma wasn’t about to argue. She was too wrapped up in Matt, in the feeling of his warm hand curling securely around hers. In a scant few minutes they were heading out. She was so distracted that she forgot her suitcase and had to run back for it. Karen gave her a knowing look and a grin which Jemma sheepishly returned before hurrying back to where Matt waited patiently for her. He was carrying a white stick, and tucked his hand into her arm.

“Do you really need the stick?” she asked quietly as they walked back to his apartment building together.

“It makes some things simpler,” he said easily.

Realising he wasn’t going to discuss his more-than-ordinary senses in public, Jemma restrained her scientific curiosity until they got back to his apartment. And then she was distracted again, because no sooner had he closed the door behind them than she found herself pulled into his arms and kissed thoroughly again. One clever, long-fingered hand cupped her cheek, fingertips moving slightly, and she realised he was exploring the shape of her face, ‘looking’ at her in the only way he could.

She moved back slightly, looked up at him, reached for his other hand and brought it to the opposite cheek. There were no words necessary, and she stood still while he explored her face, fingertips tracing the fine bones with an incredibly light touch.

“An English rose,” Matt said finally, his fingers moving up past her temples to slide into her hair, feeling the silky texture, the soft waves that fell just past her jawline. “What colour is your hair?”

“Mousy brown,” she said with a little laugh. “And my eyes are pretty much the same colour. A little bit of green in them, they’re officially ‘hazel’ on my ID.”

“And your skin is very pale and delicate.”

“How do you know that, I could have a tan!”

Matt shook his head. “No. The texture would be coarser, rougher. You’ve never really tanned, there’s not even any beauty spots – oh, wait, you have a few freckles just here.” One long finger brushed lightly across the bridge of her nose.

“There is _no way_ that you could know that,” Jemma said disbelievingly.

He smiled sadly. “I can’t see it with my eyes, no. I know Director Coulson showed you my file, Jemma, so you know my senses are not quite ordinary. I can – for the want of a better term, let’s call it _process input_ , in my mind, to build up images in my head. I can feel the blood rushing under your skin, and there are spots right here where it’s a little cooler,” his finger touched the bridge of her nose again lightly, “which says freckles, to me, because your skin is smooth.”

She laughed incredulously, but she had to believe him. “That’s amazing.”

He smiled, and she reached up and removed his dark glasses gently. “What else can you tell about me?” she asked curiously.

“I can tell when you smile from the way your voice sounds. You have even teeth and no sinus problems; there’s no whistling or clicking when you breathe. Your elocution is very good but there’s traces of a regional accent – the north of England somewhere, but I can’t exactly place it, because you left there a long time ago and you’ve spent a lot of time in the US since. You pronounce one or two words with a slight Scottish inflection, which I’m guessing comes from the amount of time you spend with your best friend, Fitz.”

Her jaw was hanging open. “Good grief.”

“Your elbow is still bruised from when you hit it on the dumpster last night.” There was a thread of laughter in his voice now, a trace of huskiness as he continued. “You’re aroused. Your nipples are erect, your pulse is elevated, your breathing increased. I’m wondering if it’s because of my manly presence or my curious abilities which you’re just dying to investigate?”

Jemma had to laugh. “Maybe – a little bit of both?” she confessed, leaning against him. “I’d love to put you on an electroencephalograph and study your brain waves…”

“I won’t be SHIELD’s lab rat,” he warned, but he was smiling, his arms closing around her to hold her against him.

“I think you know I wouldn’t ask that of you.” Her response was soft but heartfelt, and he bent his head to kiss her again. The kiss turned heated and he slowly backed her against the wall, one hand buried in her hair to hold her head still, the other moving down to glide lightly along her side, down over her hip, then back up to edge under the hem of her blouse, his fingertips warm as they made contact with her skin.

Jemma didn’t actually realise for a moment that the low moaning sound was coming from her own throat. And then she blushed fire red. Matt must have felt the heat of it, the blood rushing to the surface of her skin, because he lifted his mouth from hers, kissed each scarlet cheek gently.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he murmured, leaning his brow against hers, “not with me. I want you, Jemma, I want to touch every part of you, learn your shape, taste your skin.”

She shuddered against him, imagining those sensitive fingers exploring her. “Yes,” she got out through a dry mouth. “Oh, Matt, yes _please_.”

He made a low humming sound and moved back, reaching to catch her hand in his, leading her towards a door that she guessed led to the bedroom. It was very tidy, surprising her before she realised that it would be a great deal more convenient for Matt to know where everything was rather than have to fumble around looking for it. She was still looking around, taking in the wide bed with masculine dark and light grey patterned covers, when Matt moved behind her, one hand slipping around her waist to press lightly on her stomach, holding her to him as he pressed against her back.

He was hard; she could feel it against her bottom through their clothes. Sensitive, clever fingers brushed her hair aside as his mouth pressed gently against the base of her neck.

Jemma sighed and tilted her head to give him better access, feeling his hand plucking lightly at the buttons of her blouse, unfastening them deftly.

“Let me explore you,” Matt whispered into her ear. “Slowly. Let me learn you by touch, the only way I can. I want to know you, to learn your body so well that I can see you in my mind.”

The words evoked a flood of erotic sensations for Jemma. She shuddered against him, heard him laugh quietly. He must have sensed something she probably wasn’t even consciously aware of, probably her heart rate increasing again, maybe the scent of her arousal. She was definitely getting wet between her legs.

Matt slipped the blouse back from her shoulders, moving back to that Jemma could discard it. She almost dropped it to the floor, before thinking again and reaching to put it on top of the dresser. Turning back to Matt, she reached up to slip the knot of his tie loose, looking up at him, seeing the corners of his mouth curve in a smile.

“How’s those ribs?” Jemma asked, unbuttoning his shirt.

“They’ll be fine,” he shrugged slightly. “I’ve had much worse.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said dryly. He grinned a bit sheepishly, shrugging out of the shirt and jacket together and turning to place them neatly on a chair. Jemma gave a little sigh of pleasure as she looked at the strength of his body, wiry and powerful. Reached to touch a yellowing bruise on his arm she hadn’t seen the previous night.

Matt stood still, letting Jemma touch him. Her fingers were so small, so gentle as they danced over his skin, but there was professional skill as she explored the sore spots on his body.

“I’m fine, Jemma. Truly.”

She sighed, accepted his word for it. Her fingers moved downwards, outlining the shape of his abs, running lightly over the thin happy trail that disappeared below his waistband. He thought she would unfasten his pants, drew in a sharp, shocked breath as she skipped straight over the button and cupped his arousal through them.

“ _Jemma_.”

“I like the way you say my name,” she whispered, her fingers massaging slowly.

“Fu-uck,” he hissed out, before pressing his hand over hers, threading his fingers through hers and lifting it gently away, raising it to press light kisses against her fingertips. “Later, Jemma – let me touch you first.” He guided her backwards towards the bed, pressed her to sit down on the edge of it.

Sensing that he truly wanted this, needed it even, Jemma relaxed and let him move her, lifting her feet as he knelt to take her shoes off, lying back and letting him remove her jeans. He took his time then, moving back down her feet and skimming his fingers lightly over them, tracing the high arches, her slender ankles. She gasped as he suddenly sucked her big toe into his mouth, wriggled with surprise as she found it rather erotic.

Matt smiled around her toe, deliberately scraped his lower teeth over the soft fleshy pad, listening to the rhythm of her breathing change, the scent of her arousal tantalising his nose. _Slow_ , he ordered himself. _Make it slow_. Jemma was lovely, slender and lithe, finely-boned, her skin silky-smooth as he slowly explored her legs, mapping her with his hands, building a slow picture in his mind, this slight girl-woman who’d suddenly become the soulmate he’d thought he would never have.

He found a ticklish spot behind her knee that made her squirm and giggle, smiled against her calf as he kissed his way there to explore it with his tongue. Gliding his fingers upwards, he slid to her outer thighs, pleasantly surprised by how supple and toned her legs were. From Coulson’s description of her on the phone as ‘a brilliant scientist, one of my finest lab nerds’ he hadn’t expected her to be fit. Jogging, he assessed from the shape of her muscles, probably on a treadmill. His questing fingers found the edge of her underwear. It was silk, smelling very faintly of her laundry detergent, but her arousal was a far more potent scent to his nose.

Jemma’s breath caught in her throat as Matt moved up her thighs, pressing soft kisses to her skin. His cheek brushed against her mound through her panties and she stifled a cry.

“Don’t hold it in,” he said gruffly. “Let me hear you enjoying this, Jemma.” His tongue rasped suddenly over the wet spot, friction dragging the silk against her skin.

“Matt,” she said shakily, and he lifted his head.

“What colour are they?”

“L-light blue. My bra matches.”

He hummed softly, nuzzled at her again before kissing slowly up over her stomach, all the while his hands moving, mapping her body. Jemma tried to relax, but he hit on one or two more ticklish spots over her ribs and she choked with laughter, wriggling and grabbing at his wrists.

“Don’t!”

Matt grinned. “Sensitive.” His voice dropped to a deeper level, a husky growl. “I like that.”

She whined helplessly as he reached her breasts, rubbed his cheek over the silk cupping them before his hands explored their shape, tracing lightly around her nipples pushing hard through the thin fabric.

“Please,” she whined in her throat, and he smiled, she could feel it against her skin, a moment before his mouth was on her, suckling, wetting the silk and rubbing it against her nipple with his tongue and teeth.

Jemma’s hands landed in his hair, caressing through the short strands, and Matt totally failed to suppress a moan.

“You like your scalp rubbed?” she murmured lazily.

“Jemma…” he shuddered, moved hastily back. “Will you let me tie you up?”

“What?” her eyes shot open and she sat up rapidly, staring at him, he could tell. “Why?”

Her heartbeat had increased to a thunderous rhythm. He concentrated; focussed on _why_. Arousal or fear?

_Tell her the truth._

“My senses are _too_ acute,” he confessed. “I’ve taught myself to ignore pain, but pleasure is – not so simple.”

“Ahh,” she understood, suddenly. “Well. Gosh.” Lying back down, she considered him. “You don’t have to tie me up. Not that the idea might not be fun, sometime, but – well, how about I just agree to keep my hands to myself until you’re ready? And then I get _my_ turn to explore by touch.”

Matt chuckled, relieved that she’d understood. “That sounds good. Really good.”

“All righty then.” She put her hands behind her head – threaded into her own hair as a reminder, in case she got too lost in his touch. “Get back to what you were doing then, if you please. But not _too_ slow.”

Laughing, Matt bent back to his self-imposed task of exploring her entire body with his fingertips and his mouth, mapping and tasting every inch of her soft skin. She grumbled a little but turned to her front when he asked her to, groaning a little in frustration.

“Sshh,” he murmured against the back of her thigh, “time for you to have a little fun, Jemma.”

“Wh…” was all she managed to say before deft fingers unsnapped her bra. “Ohhh,” as his hands swept lightly down her back, tugged on the upper edge of her knickers. Eagerly she shifted, let him pull them down her thighs and over her knees, off completely. Hastily Jemma pulled her bra straps down her arms, tugged it out from under her, raised up on her elbows and looked over her shoulder. Matt was kneeling astride her thighs, still wearing his pants, the thick weight of his erection very evident behind his fly, though. She licked her lips.

“Ahhhh, Jemma, don’t do that,” he groaned, obviously hearing her.

“You look _good_ , though,” she purred. “I want to taste.”

“Unh,” Matt almost doubled over at the throaty desire in her voice. Had to bite hard on his lips, using the distraction to try and regain control – and pressed both his thumbs into the small of Jemma’s back, massaging the tight muscles he’d found there, working his way up her spine to the nape of her neck and back down again.

Jemma was a boneless puddle by the time he stopped, utterly relaxed and intensely aroused both at the same time.

“Wow,” she managed to mumble as Matt climbed off her and lay down beside her, stroking one hand gently along her spine, over the curve of her ass. “You have _magic_ hands.”

Matt chuckled. “I’ve hardly started.”

“Uhhh,” Jemma shivered as his voice became low and intimate, and his hand slipped between her thighs. She parted them instinctively, lifting her hips.

“Turn over for me?” he requested softly, and she rolled over at once.

“Can I touch you yet?” she begged frantically.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his hands moving to cover her breasts, stroking a slow spiral inwards towards her nipples with his fingers. “I’ve not finished mapping you in my head yet.” He applied a fingertip to each peaked nipple, circling quickly, drawing a strangled sound from Jemma’s throat. “Haven’t finished exploring what you like. How you taste,” his lips closed on her breast and he sucked the aching bud deep into his mouth.

“Oh, my goodness,” Jemma gasped, making Matt chuckle at the old-fashioned expression in her prim English accent.

“I love the way you speak,” he let her nipple out of his mouth and moved over to kiss and mouth at the other, “the sound of your voice, to me – it probably feels rather like this does to you.” One hand had been making its leisurely way down her stomach to dip between her thighs again, and as he spoke, he parted soaking folds lightly with his finger and applied a sensitive fingertip directly to her clit.

Jemma couldn’t help herself. She grabbed for him, desperate for an anchor to hold onto, grasped his shoulders and held on tight. Matt moaned against her breast, rubbed himself against her thigh for a moment, trying hard to hold onto his control.

“Please, Matt,” she sobbed, and he lost himself, fumbled at his belt to get his pants undone. Reached for the bedside table to feel for condoms, sighed with relief as Jemma grabbed the box from his hand. He kicked his pants off as she ripped the foil open, sat back on his heels to let her put the sheath on him, leaving his hand between her thighs, playing lightly with her clit, dipping into her vagina, groaning harshly as his fingers found her drenched.

Jemma reached out for Matt, though her hands shook as he teased her. His cock was nicely sized, swollen and flushed with arousal, jutting up from a nest of black curls. She rolled the condom on gently, glorying in the sounds he made, the way the muscles of his chest and shoulders tensed as she touched him.

“Hurry,” she whispered to him as he moved, kneeling between her legs. “I need you.”

Matt almost choked at Jemma’s soft words. “ _Jemma_ ,” he said thickly.

“Please!” she clutched at him, wrapping arms and legs around him, pulling him closer desperately until suddenly he was right _there_ , right where she needed him, sliding in slow but easy, her body welcoming him in. “Ahhhh,” Jemma moaned with pleasure, her hips lifting to draw him in deeper still until his groin pressed against hers, his back arched, his arms braced on either side of her head, his eyes seeming to stare right at her. She gazed right back, even knowing that he couldn’t ‘see’ her as such, she guessed that he could put the image together well enough as his hips rocked in the first slow thrust.

She was making the most wonderful sounds as he drove into her slow and easy, high moans and little screams of pleasure that overloaded his senses completely. “Jemma,” Matt gasped, “oh God, Jemma…”

“Yes!” she squealed, her body suddenly spasming, slick muscles wrapped around his cock tightening to a near-painful grip that sent him spiralling right over that edge.

It was the only time when he felt that he could see colours again, Matt thought hazily; fireworks and streamers of bright colour inside his mind as the endorphins flooded his system. He groaned hoarsely, hips juddering as he pumped his load into Jemma, as she held him close, her hands stroking down his back, every touch adding to his bliss. He could feel tiny internal muscles still twitching around him, her body still going through small aftershocks of pleasure. Her pulse hammered in his ears, her skin flushed with arousal as he eased down to an elbow and stroked down her body lightly with his free hand.

“Do I have to ask if that was all right for you?” he said a little teasingly a minute or two later. She was still breathing hard.

Jemma choked off a laugh, hugging him tighter to her. “I don’t think you have to ask, no. Dare _I_ ask?”

“Oh, beautiful.” His hand cupped her cheek lightly and he dipped his head to kiss her, warm lips soft and seeking over hers. “You were perfect,” he whispered against her mouth. “ _Perfect_.”

She smiled and kissed him back, running her fingers into his hair as she’d wanted to earlier, feeling its thick texture, scratching lightly at his scalp, massaging the back of his neck. Matt moaned into her mouth and Jemma chuckled.

“Like that?”

“You have _no idea_.” He realised he was going to be hard again in short order if she kept doing that, and pulled back reluctantly, knowing he needed to get rid of the condom. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, “and then you can keep doing that for as long as you like. Forever, if necessary.”

“I like the sound of that,” Jemma said happily, snuggling down into the bedclothes to await his return.

 

**And yes, this one’s a bit sad for Fitz. Just assume he gets Darcy in the end and go with the flow ;)**

**I’m a bit annoyed with myself because I don’t seem to be able to just plunge straight in with the smut, as it were. I seem to feel the need to ‘set the scene’ first. I’m interested to know, is this OK with you guys? Or would you prefer that this one just skipped all the intro and went straight to the part where Jemma and Matt get back to his apartment?**

**Next one up will be Skye/Johnny Storm, as requested by Selene Aduial, Katen, Griffin, SwifteForeverandAlways, Lia, mnemosynes_tears, Yasmania, FlamingTorch, Fan4Stic, FlameOn, Zelda, ChipsDeluxe, riddikulusdemigods, GoGoPowerRangers, ChaplinYoga, Name4Me, FieryFate, WolfBlood, AssassinsCreeder, JustAlliHere and Holieshka! So stand by for some SCORCHING action! (GEDDIT? Oh never mind. Puns are not my thing).**


	15. Skye/Johnny Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Continues on from[Chapter 3, _Don’t Call Me Girlie_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/5941325)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As requested by Selene Aduial, Katen, Griffin, SwifteForeverandAlways, Lia, mnemosynes_tears, Yasmania, FlamingTorch, Fan4Stic, FlameOn, Zelda, ChipsDeluxe, riddikulusdemigods, GoGoPowerRangers, ChaplinYoga, Name4Me, FieryFate, WolfBlood, AssassinsCreeder, JustAlliHere and Holieshka!**
> 
> **WOW I wrote that one a long time ago! Hmm. OK. Well, this is obviously an AU where the X-Men and F4 exist in the same ‘verse as the Avengers and Skye never ended up getting her powers.**
> 
>   **And the overwhelming consensus (thank you all for your comments) last chapter was YES, oz, do the setup thing! So here we go, zooming off into the sky with Johnny Storm, the Human Torch…**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/Chris-Evans-8_zpszx47o4md.jpg.html)

“How am I not getting burned to a crisp?” Skye had to ask.

“Don’t know how it all works, gir… sweetheart,” Johnny grinned at her. “Ask Reed if you want the scientific explanation. It all goes straight over my head.”

“Okay, you can cut the I’m-just-a-doofus act now,” Skye told him sternly. “I’ve read your file. You were an astronaut long before the superhero thing, and NASA doesn’t put dimwits into space. Playing the brainless adorable golden retriever puppy isn’t going to get you very far with me.”

He smiled at that. “Okay. I’ve kind of adopted it as a persona, though. Forgive me if I backslide from time to time?”

“I’ll consider it,” she said pertly, and just then they landed, on a balcony high up in a very swanky apartment block. “Don’t you live in the Baxter Building?”

“Fuck no, it’s almost as big a villain target as Stark’s penis-extension tower! It’s _so_ cock-blocking, having Doom turn up and try and blow up the building just as you’re building up to the big moment.”

“You’re an asshole,” she couldn’t help but giggle, though, at the world-weary roll of his eyes. The flames around them died and she shivered – damn, it was cold! Johnny kept his arm around her and reached to open the balcony door.

“Oh, I _don’t_ think so,” Skye said as she saw the immense bed. “I am _not_ going to just fall into bed with you, John.”

“Johnny,” he requested, “please. John makes me feel _old_. And I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve just realised I don’t know your name.”

“Which makes your attempt to get me into bed _even worse_ ,” she said sniffily.

“We have to go past the bedroom to get into the rest of the apartment,” he pointed out, “I promise I’m not going to try and shove you down and ravish you, stunning though you are, and amazing though my fantasies are going to be about doing just that.”

“Stop it,” she thumped his chest lightly, but it _was_ cold, so she pulled away and stalked through the bedroom into the living room. Johnny followed after closing the balcony door behind them.

“Aren’t you worried about burglars, leaving your door unlocked?”

“Sweetheart, this is the fifty-third floor. The only people who could get in that door can fly. Except Spider-Man,” Johnny added as an afterthought. “But he only helps himself to my food, and I don’t think I’ve got anything Thor or Iron Man would want…”

“Never mind,” Skye laughed again at his irreverence, looking around. It was very much a bachelor pad, but not as sleekly glamorous as she’d envisioned, more comfortable, lived-in. And quite tidy. She said as much.

“Spider-Man again,” Johnny sighed. “Nicks my food and then tidies up my place. Weird kid, but he’s kind of sweet. Seems to think that tidying up is payment or something.”

Skye studied him, his affected air of nonchalance as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “Why do I have the feeling that you buy far more food than you could ever eat and even some things you don’t much like?”

He deflected the query easily and she realised he was far, far more complicated than the easy-going, joking façade he showed the world.

“I’m Skye,” she told him finally when he asked her again, “no last name.”

“Beautiful,” he said softly, sincerely, “and appropriate. I’m never happier than when I’m in the sky.”

She waggled a finger at him for the innuendo, and he laughed.

“All right. I’m not going to stop trying to get you into bed, though, because fuck me if you ain’t the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.” His eyes roamed over her, taking her in. “I can’t help but want you.”

“As long as you’re honest about it, I can live with that,” Skye admitted, “and as long as honesty’s the order of the day, yes, you’re pretty damn sexy as well. But… I’ve been hurt too many times in the past, and I’ve seen even soulmate relationships go horrifically wrong. Can we take things slow?”

Johnny sighed dramatically, but his eyes twinkled, and his tone was sincere when he said; “As slow as you like, Skye.”

“I won’t take it well if you still play around with other girls,” Skye warned.

“Here’s my truth, Skye, I like women – I _love_ women, I love the way they smell, the way they feel, the way they laugh, the wonderful _complexity_ of them – and yes, there’ve been plenty in the past. I’m gonna make myself sound like an asshole now, but none of them mattered. They were all just diversions to pass the time while I waited for you.”

“That was both totally asshole and really kind of sweet,” Skye said after a moment.

“What can I say, I’m a walking contradiction.”

He made her laugh, Skye realised, so much more than anyone else she’d ever known. She couldn’t help but smile, and while he did indeed not stop flirting with her, she never felt pressured. He asked what she liked to eat and they ordered Thai food, ate it companiably sitting at the breakfast bar, talking and laughing. While Johnny was thoroughly rude about his brother-in-law, she could hear the affection behind his words too, and the obviously deep love he held for his sister.

“I envy you, having a sister,” Skye admitted. “I dreamed of a sister or a brother.”

“Sue’s the best sister I could possibly ask for,” Johnny said with a grin, “and I’m willing to share her with you. I have no doubt she’s dying to get acquainted with you.”

Skye’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You’re my soulmate,” Johnny said, “which makes you automatically part of the family. Which means unfortunately you get stuck with Reed too, and Ben’s kind of been adopted, which might be problematic except that with Ben comes Alicia and she’s _awesome_.”

Bemused, Skye just shook her head, and Johnny smiled and stood. “Come on. Enough for tonight. I’d better take you home.”

He drove her back to the hotel where they were staying, walked her to her door… and paused outside. “Can I come in?”

“No.” She smiled, though, and there was no sting to her words.

“Okay.” He grinned. “Can’t blame a guy for trying?”

“I don’t.” She hesitated, looking up at him. “You could kiss me, if you like.”

“Very much like,” he agreed delightedly, and a moment later had quite literally swept Skye off her feet, bending her back over his arm and kissing her so thoroughly that Skye found herself clutching at his shoulders long after he’d lifted his head with a distinctly triumphant grin.

“Just a little sample of what you can have any time you want it, babe,” Johnny said softly, looking down into Skye’s shocked eyes. She swallowed, licked her lips… and shook her head.

“Not tonight.”

“Cool. What time can I pick you up tomorrow? Breakfast date?”

She laughed. “All right. Why the hell not. Eight?”

“Love to.” He watched as she went into her room and closed the door, shoved his hands in his pockets and blew out his cheeks. “Wow.” Pulling his phone from his pocket, he checked the screen and grinned before heading back towards the elevator, dialling a number. “Hey, Sue. She’s amazing. You’re gonna love her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye managed to evade Coulson the following morning by texting him that she’d meet him at eight-thirty. She and Johnny were long gone by the time she got an irritated text asking her where she was. Replying with an unrepentant ‘Coney Island’ she tossed the phone into the glove compartment of Johnny’s car.

Johnny made everything so much _fun_ – but he _did_ have a more serious side, Skye discovered, and he slowly dropped the happy-go-lucky façade with her, let her in to see his true self. She met Sue that afternoon again, and Alicia, Ben’s beautiful girlfriend, who had the loveliest speaking voice Skye had ever heard. She listened transfixed as the blind girl talked, and Johnny had to nudge her to remind her to reply.

“She’s a delight, Johnny,” Sue whispered in his ear as she embraced him on the way out. “You’re a lucky man.”

“Damn right I am,” Johnny agreed happily.

Coulson caught up with them as he delivered Skye back to her hotel after dinner by the simple dint of waiting outside Skye’s room for her to get back.

“Is there any point in me telling you to be careful?” he asked Skye as she looked up at Johnny starry-eyed.

“I won’t hurt her,” Johnny said quietly but fervently. “I’d rather cut off my own hand.”

“All right.” Phil sighed and nodded. “Well, the Richards have invited you to stay with them, since we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Or you can just move in with me,” Johnny suggested. Skye hesitated, thought about it as Phil nodded and headed for his own room.

“Can I think about it and let you know in the morning?”

“Of course you can, angel.” Drawing her gently into his arms, he bent his head, rested his forehead against hers. “I do have a spare room. And I promise I’ll stay out if you tell me to.”

“The problem is that I might not be able to resist temptation if you’re right under my nose,” Skye admitted.

“That’s not a problem,” Johnny grinned wickedly. “Don’t resist.”

“Honestly, it’s like you actually are the devil on my shoulder,” she shook her head at him, and he snatched a kiss, pushing her up against the wall, but gently. Skye knew she could push him off any time she wanted and he’d let her go at once.

Of course, she didn’t want to push him off at all. She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back, losing herself in the heat of his mouth and the expertise with which his tongue played with hers, teasing and tantalising until her hands were clenching on his shoulders and she was letting out needy little whimpers into his mouth, her body arched wantonly against his, her breasts aching.

Johnny was the one who pulled back, trying hard not to look too pleased with himself. “Good night, angel,” he said huskily.

“Unnnhh,” Skye whined.

“Go on. Into your room and off to sleep. You’re not taking advantage of my gorgeously hot body on only the second date.”

She had to laugh as he unwound her arms from around his neck and pushed her gently into her room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a restless night spent staring at the ceiling and thinking of nothing but the myriad of ways in which she wanted to touch Johnny – and have him touch her – Skye had made up her mind. She packed her things, farewelled the others though they’d be seeing each other soon enough, since Sue had convinced Reed and Ben to sign the co-operation agreement and Johnny of course was already on board. Reed and Sue had invited Jemma and Fitz to come to the Baxter building for regular science conferences, and no doubt the rest of the SHIELD team would be around regularly as well.

“So, where am I taking you?” Johnny asked as he took Skye’s bag to carry to his car.

“Your place,” Skye said. “It’ll save you and Reed butting heads every time you want to see me, anyway,” she told him dryly.

He grinned and didn’t contradict her. Chattered amiably about inconsequential things as they drove to his apartment, carried her bag into the guest room when they arrived.

“Do you need anything? There’s clean towels and stuff in the bathroom,” he gestured a little awkwardly, unsure of what he should do. It was his apartment, but this was Skye’s space now – he should go. He backed towards the door. “I’ll let you wanna unpack and… stuff.”

Skye blinked as the door closed behind him. Looked down at her bag and shrugged. Oh well, might as well unpack then… when she’d finished, she headed back out to the living room and found Johnny on the couch, watching a Discovery Channel _Superstructures_ documentary.

“These are so fascinating,” Skye plopped down on the couch beside him, “though I’m glad Fitz isn’t here. He always just shakes his head and points out much smarter ways they could have done things.”

Johnny laughed, his arm slipping around her shoulders. “Want to go get some lunch? I could probably stand to go grocery shopping, too. Spidey came round last night, he must have been hungry. There’s not much left in the fridge.”

That made her laugh. “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“He’s shy, a sweet kid. I rarely see him, but he saved my ass once. I owe him a lot more than a few late-night fridge raids.” Johnny’s voice was affectionate.

Skye smiled, getting up. “I’ll get my coat.” It was cold outside, really cold actually, the first flakes of snow just starting to fall as they returned to Johnny’s apartment, and she was shivering as they took the bags of groceries inside. Her fingers touched Johnny’s wrist and he started with shock.

“Babe, you’re freezing!”

“Sh-should probably have found a scarf and hat too,” Skye admitted, her teeth chattering a little.

“Come here.” He grabbed both her hands in his, brought them around to his back and pulled them under the light sweater he was wearing. Skye moaned shamelessly at the delicious warmth of his muscled back.

“Ohhh. So nice.” She looked up at him through long black eyelashes. “You know – the best way to warm someone up, to share body heat, is skin to skin contact.”

“Is that so,” Johnny blinked, a little surprised, and then grinned. “I can do that. How much would you like?”

“Oh,” her cold but rapidly warming fingers moved on his back, caressing his spine lightly, “ _lots_.”

“Mm,” he bent his head to take a kiss, his lips hot on hers, tongue even hotter as it slipped between them. “Do you want to take this to the bedroom?” his voice was low, for once no hint of teasing in it. Just raw, unfettered _want_.

“Yes,” Skye whispered against his lips. She’d already concluded that staying in his apartment and _not_ touching Johnny was just going to lead to a massive rise in sexual tension and probably end in them fighting. He was her soulmate; she was pretty damn confident he wasn’t going to fuck and run with her. He’d been recognised even at the food market, two pretty teenage girls racing over and begging to take selfies with him; while he’d smiled and stood with them for the pictures, he’d politely declined to kiss them.

“My girlfriend’s right there, ladies, stay classy,” he’d given them a charming wink and returned to Skye’s side without a backward glance.

Johnny couldn’t help a hungry growl in his chest at Skye’s soft acceptance. Stepping back, he suddenly scooped her up in his arms.

“I can walk!” she said, startled, as he carried her towards the bedroom.

“I know,” he answered, “but I like carrying you.” Arriving at the bedside, he let her slide slowly down his body before reaching to the back of his neck and pulling his sweater off in one smooth movement.

“Mmm,” Skye ran her eyes over him appreciatively. He did bear a startling resemblance facially to Steve Rogers, but he was an inch or so shorter and not nearly as bulky. He was lean and hard with muscle though, with a defined six-pack, her words trailing across it. She just ached to put her mouth on that stomach.

So she did.

“Ahhh,” Johnny sucked in a quick breath as Skye’s lips skimmed around his six-pack before her tongue began to drag slowly over the ridges beneath his heated skin, tracing over the black words. “ _Fuck_ , babe.” She was kissing slowly down his happy trail to where his pants hung low on his hips before looking up at him, shaking her hair back and grinning as she straightened up.

“You’re smoking.”

“What… oh.” Johnny blinked with annoyance. “Damn, that hasn’t happened in _years_.” He concentrated, and the smoke slowly rising from his shoulders stopped. Skye giggled, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ll give _you_ smokin’.” Grabbing her with his hands on her ass, he tossed her back onto the bed, making her shriek with laughter and kick at him. Chuckling, he grabbed one boot.

“Hold still, or I might be tempted to singe all your clothes off.”

“Don’t you dare!” Skye said through her laughter, but she stilled and let him unlace her boot. He tugged it off, reached for the other foot and removed that one too, peeled off her socks, long warm fingers stroking her high instep, curling around her ankles for a moment.

“Beautiful feet,” Johnny murmured softly.

“Foot fetish?” Skye raised her brows at him.

“ _You_ fetish,” his smile was darker, hungrier than she’d ever seen it. “I’ll give you fair warning, Skye. Now I’ve found you, I want to be with you all the time. Want to touch every inch of you, learn how all of you tastes. Make you part of me.”

Skye gasped, a little surprised. The intensity, the raw honesty she could hear in his words, see in his face, seemed so unlike Johnny, the carefree, laughing playboy. And then she realised that he was showing her his true self, the vulnerable part of him that he concealed behind that brightly outgoing façade, and she understood, because she hid the vulnerable parts of herself behind a mask too, only letting it down around the people she loved and trusted.

“I know,” she whispered, reaching out towards him. “I want that too.”

He let go of her ankles and moved up onto the bed, kneeling between her thighs as she parted them to accommodate him, leaning in for a slow, druggingly sweet kiss. Skye’s arms wound around his neck and she tugged him closer, arching her body up to press herself against him, sliding her hands over his solidly muscled shoulders, down his back.

Johnny made a low sound in his throat, lifted his head. “Slow,” he whispered, and she realised his skin was growing hotter again under her hands. “I want… too much.”

Skye tilted her head at him, considering. “Why don’t we take this somewhere less flammable? Like the shower?”

He blew out a little huff of air, grinned. “I like the way you think, babe.”

“Better get off me then,” she bucked her hips lightly up against him, smirked at his strangled groan before he levered himself off her and headed for the bathroom door, unfastening his pants as he went. She admired the back view for a moment, and what a view it was, nice broad shoulders tapering down to a slim waist and an ass that was quite spectacular even in jeans. She couldn’t _wait_ to get her hands on that ass.

Grinning as a wicked thought occurred to her, Skye got off the bed and hastily shucked all her clothes before following Johnny into the bathroom, where he’d started the shower running, was leaning against the vanity taking off his boots.

“Holy…!” Johnny unbalanced, had to grab the edge of the vanity to keep from falling as Skye walked in, proudly nude. “Fu-u-uck,” he choked out, feasting his gaze on her. She was slim but not delicate, firm lithe muscles under her smooth skin, small pert breasts he ached to touch. His words written in a loopy spiral around her cute little ‘innsy’ belly button.

“Are you _tryin’_ to give me a heart attack?” he asked finally, his eyes moving up to take in her amused, triumphant expression. “Because I think you just about succeeded.”

“Just making sure I have your full attention,” Skye told him, smirking.

“Oh, there was never any doubt of that.” All thumbs now, Johnny fumbled out of the rest of his clothes, dumping them into his laundry hamper before straightening up and opening the shower door. Stepping inside, he let the water run over his skin, dampening the flames he could feel blazing just beneath. After a few seconds he felt better, a little more in control, of his power at least though the water was doing nothing to cool his raging ardour. Opening his eyes, he held his hand out towards Skye. “Coming to join me, angel? The water’s nice and warm.”

“Not the only thing warm in here,” Skye murmured, moving forward. The shower had no door, was just a recessed wide stall, slate-lined, with water sprays in apparently every imaginable direction. Johnny naked and wet was a sight to behold, his blue eyes shining, eyelashes went and sticking together in clumps as he smiled invitingly at her. _She_ certainly no longer felt cold, the flush of arousal suffusing her skin as she stepped into the warm water spray.

They studied each other for a moment, looking their fill, before Johnny reached out, cupping Skye’s cheek gently, sweeping strands of wet brown hair back from her face. He bent to kiss her, a slow soft kiss that quickly turned hungry as Skye stood on tiptoe, moving forward against him, pressing her breasts against his chest. A slim hand moved down, tracing lightly over his defined abs, encountered the tip of his cock as it pushed urgently against her.

“Ungh,” Johnny groaned into the kiss, lifted his head as Skye’s fingers curled around his tip, massaging lightly, and then she slid her hand down hard and fast, the whole length of his cock, to wrap around the base and squeeze gently. “ _Aanngh_ , fuck, babe, uhhh!” He pulsed lightly in her hand, thickening still further. “ _Huhhhhh_.” He had to clench his fists hard, bite down on his tongue for a moment to clear his head. Then, he reached for the soap dispenser, squirted a glob into his hands and reached for Skye’s breasts.

“What an absolutely filthy girl you are.”

It was Skye’s turn to moan as he massaged the soap in, long talented fingers quickly discovering how she liked to be touched, his hands cupping her breasts, thumbs rubbing quick circles over her nipples. She flung her head back, arching into his touch.

“Mmm. More soap, I think,” Johnny’s voice had dropped to a low rumble as he reached for more, and then he turned Skye around quickly, making her let go of his cock, and pulled her back against him with a strong arm around her ribs. “Gonna wash you _all_ over,” he whispered hotly in her ear. Skye relaxed back against him and moaned shamelessly, thoroughly enjoying his expert touch as he stroked the soap into her skin, lathering it thoroughly.

Johnny was too impatient to tease for long, though, and soon his hand was stroking at the juncture of her thighs. She was already wet as she parted her legs for him, and not from just the water. He groaned deep in his chest again, heard Skye’s husky laugh as she put one hand on his wrist, pressed his fingers more firmly against her.

“Wet for you,” she whispered in his ear as he nibbled at her shoulder, looking down along the line of her body. “ _Want_ you, Johnny.”

He was so hard it was almost painful, pushing against her lower back, but she was about eight inches shorter than he was, it would make things awkward if they actually tried to have sex in here and he didn’t have a condom anyway… he shrugged, kept on stroking. “You’ll have me, Skye,” he murmured back. “All in good time.” The soap was almost all washed off anyway, but he kept stroking, a long finger sliding up into her soaked passage and crooking, searching, his thumb rubbing quick circles over her swollen clit…

Skye cried out and shuddered, her head falling back against his shoulder as she panted, her lips parted, eyes closed, slick internal muscles squeezing rhythmically on his finger.

She was so beautiful in the throes of her passion that Johnny nearly came all over her back right then, but he gritted his teeth and hung on, reaching out to switch off the water, dragging a dazed Skye out of the shower stall with him.

He was about to lift her to the vanity counter, thinking that it was a perfect height for her to wrap her legs around him, when he looked down and saw the words on her stomach, and rethought that plan. If he fucked her face to face, they risked an accidental bond, and while there was nothing he’d like more, she was in no fit state right now to consent to that. Instead he turned her around, setting her hands on the vanity as he yanked open a drawer.

“Bend over,” he requested huskily, and Skye realised what he planned as she heard the condom wrapper rip.

“Oh hell yes please,” she panted, still on a high from that knee-trembling orgasm. Gripping the edge of the counter she bent right forward, lifting her ass high for him, heard Johnny make a strangled sound a moment before his hands settled on her hips and she felt the tip of his cock push against her.

Skye had to hang onto the counter and breathe deeply as he pushed slowly in, because there was apparently more than one reason why Johnny had been so ‘successful’ as a playboy. Word must definitely have got around. She moaned, resting her forehead on the cool marble, as he kept _on_ driving in, _still_ not at full depth.

“Okay, babe?” Johnny stopped, hearing Skye moan. Reached forward and gathered her hair in one hand gently, sweeping it back at the nape of her neck. He tugged lightly. “Lift your head. Look at yourself. You’re so beautiful.”

Skye lifted her head at his urging, looked at them in the mirror backing the vanity, and gasped.

Her eyes were shining, her lips parted and full, a flush on her cheeks making her look wantonly excited. Johnny, tall and strong behind her, eyes darkened with lust, smiled back at her.

“Do you see?” he said softly, rocking his hips to slide more freely in and out of her. Moving his free hand around her hip to scissor her clit between deft fingers, palm against her pubic bone holding her steady for his thrusts, his hand in her hair holding her still so that she had to keep watching.

“Y-yes,” Skye gasped, unable to stop staring. “Oh my god.” He was fully inside her now, pressed deep, stretching delicate tissues, the tip of his cock rubbing right over her g-spot every time he moved.

“Fucking hell, you’re so gorgeous,” Johnny was losing it, steam rising from his shoulders as he started to overheat. “ _Skyyyye_.” His balls were pulling up tight, contracting, ready to shoot his load deep inside her tight passage. He rubbed faster over her clit, pumped more fiercely, unaware that he was pulling slightly on her hair as he did so.

The little bit of pain broke Skye; she sobbed as a second climax in a matter of minutes ripped through her already-sensitive body, clenching hard on Johnny, dragging him over the edge with her. He surged with a shout, letting go of her hair and grasping her shoulder, holding her firmly back against him as his cock pulsed hard.

Skye dropped her forehead to the counter again, breathing hard, her thigh muscles shaking as Johnny put his hands back to her hips after one last gentle caress to her clit. Slowly, he eased out, discarding the condom into the toilet quickly and washing his hands before reaching out to Skye, a strong hand around her upper arm drawing her upright.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly.

“Unnhh,” she still couldn’t think clearly, and he smiled and lifted her easily into his arms, carrying her back to the bed and tucking her in before snuggling in beside her, pressing his lips against her brow gently.

“Fuuuuck,” Skye whispered finally. “That was – _mind-blowing_.”

“Mm-hm. And we didn’t even bond yet,” Johnny agreed.

“Ah, hell,” Skye started to chuckle weakly. “I’m not sure I’ll survive if it gets much better than that!” Something occurred to her then and she peeked up at him through her lashes. “Although probably it wasn’t that special for you…”

He kissed her, long and slow, before lifting his head. “It most definitely _was_ that special for me, Skye. You only get to make love to your soulmate for the first time once, and frankly I found it…” he had to search for the word. “Unique,” he said at last. “Like nothing I ever did before. Like everything before tasted like plain milk and _suddenly_ there’s a mocha-caramel cinnamon latte. It was overwhelmingly wonderful.”

She smiled at his choice of comparisons, nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”

“Like you’re always been able to see, but suddenly everything’s in _colour_ ,” Johnny warmed to his theme.

Skye giggled. “No. Not that one.”

He gave her a curious look.

“Vampire romance novels. Don’t ask.”

“I thought they were sparkly, are they colour blind as well?” Johnny asked in all seriousness.

She burst out laughing, burying her face in the pillow and nearly _howling_. He grinned, leaning in to kiss her shoulder, sprinkle kisses down her spine. Her laughter had subsided by the time he reached the small of her back, but she twitched suddenly as he obviously hit on a sensitive spot.

“Are you _ticklish_?” he discovered, grinning wickedly. “Just… _here_?”

Skye screamed, twisting over and flailing madly. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, rolling on top of her to pin her down with his larger, heavier body. She bucked, trying to shove him off, her eyes widening as he started to harden against her thigh again.

“Wh…”

“Don’t you feel it?” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

She blinked – and then realised what he meant. Their marks were touching. She’d thought the warm, tingling sensation was just lingering afterglow from that spectacular lovemaking, but it was increasing with every passing moment, making her shiver with sudden renewed _want_.

Johnny’s eyes were dark with hunger, his pupils blown wide. “Skye,” he said hoarsely. “Do you want this? Want the bond? Because if you don’t, if you’re not ready yet, you need to push me off _now_.”

“Of course I want to,” she blinked at him, a little bemused. “I was surprised you didn’t, before…”

He grinned, leaning in to take a kiss, long and thorough, before moving down, kissing down her neck, his hands tracing a delicate inward-curling spiral around both breasts.

“Please, let me amend the oversight now.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **MMMM yes please, Johnny! But I’m not writing any more in this one because it’s ALREADY over 5,000 words and that’s a very bloody long list waiting for me.**
> 
> **Speaking of the list… because it’s long, hard to maintain in Notes, and people keep forgetting what they’ve voted for, I’m going to be publishing it as a chapter in its own right, with the list of who’s voted for what. See the last chapter.**
> 
> **Next on the list to be written is Pyro/Iceman/Jemma, as requested by thedarkqueenofangels, TheVorpalQueen, Greennonmonster, Lia, Daylights, Luna064, bumble.bee.kawaii, stuartzomboy, SwifteForeverandAlways, Altaira, Liles217 and ScratchPen.**


	16. Darcy/Sabretooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Follows on from the Crackship Armada Sails Again,[Chapter 15, You Came Back](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4167942/chapters/10444194)**
> 
> **Note: Comic canon says Sabretooth is 6’ 6”. While Liev Schreiber isn’t quite that tall at 6’ 3”, I have a confessed height-difference kink, so we’re going with the taller option ;)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As voted for by   Notashamed, Rachet, blackonyxcaydge, Raveninflight and Holieshka.
> 
> And THEN I ran a 500 Followers Celebration Giveaway Thingy on my Tumblr. Fourth prize, “You get to select any already written  _[Crackship Shorts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/5941115) or [Crackship Shorts 2 ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4167942/chapters/9408057)_ pairing and demand that I write that one next in the _[Crackship Sexytimes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4217454/chapters/9534126)_ ” was won by symphilyyours, who picked Darcy/Sabretooth.
> 
> I immediately deleted it from the voting list so nobody else ‘wasted’ their vote. The 5 people listed above can have TWO votes in this chapter, if they so wish ;)
> 
> And YOU GUYS. The Rumlow/Gambit/Darcy has ROCKETED up the list. Colour me amazed by the sheer level of begging!

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/liev-schreiber-sabretooth_zpsojdxzq7p.jpg.html)

The next time Darcy awoke, Jane was gone and it was Victor sitting in the chair by the bed. He seemed to be waiting for her to open her eyes, and she realised he’d probably been watching the monitors, seen her heartrate and breathing change.

“Hello,” she whispered a little shyly.

“Why did you pretend to be mute?”

She winced a little. She’d known the question would come eventually, but apparently Victor _really_ didn’t believe in beating around the bush. “You were kinda scary,” she said finally. “And the first thing you said was my soulmate words. I just… I really…”

His stiff, rather severe expression softened. “It’s all right, Darcy. I know I’m not exactly what the dreams of young girls are filled with, I’ve never been anybody’s prince.”

If she hadn’t been so sore and aching – and her leg was in a brace hanging from the ceiling, too – she’d have launched herself at him and denied it in the strongest manner possible. Instead she clutched at his hand where it lay close to hers on the bed. “No!” she said loudly.

Indeed, cleaned up, his beard neatly shorn, his hair shaved back, he was brutally handsome in the kind of way that had always made Darcy go weak. She _knew_ how big he was, how muscular, and frankly her insides were totally knotting up at the thought of a time when he could touch her as she was beginning to want rather desperately.

Victor’s nostrils flared.

“Oh my God.” _He can_ smell _my arousal. Think about something else, Darcy, anything, for fuck’s sake, something other than what you want him to do to you…_

“I need to get out of here.” Victor shot to his feet and fled.

Embarrassed as hell, Darcy closed her eyes and wondered if it was actually possible to die of humiliation.

Jane came bustling in then. “Darce! Victor said you were awake. Oh, honey, thank goodness, I am so glad.” She bent over Darcy to hug her, and over her shoulder Darcy saw Thor entering the room as well, a broad smile on his face.

“Lady Darcy. It is good indeed to see your eyes open.”

She accepted their greetings – Thor even toned down the strength of his hug in deference to her fragile state – looked pitifully up at Jane and said “What the _fuck_ happened?”

Darcy gleaned, from the babbled explanation Jane gave, and Thor’s occasional interjections, that Victor had carried her – on foot! – several miles to the nearest town and straight into a hospital emergency department. He’d only been able to tell them that her name was Darcy and she’d been kidnapped, but that was more than enough for the hospital staff to take one look at her and match her up with the images Stark had paid a lot of money to have plastered all over the TV ever since she vanished.

One phone call later and Thor had been on his way via high-speed hammer.

Both Jane and Thor went suspiciously quiet, then, and Darcy narrowed her eyes at them. “What is it that you aren’t telling me?”

“Let me tell her,” Jane said quietly to Thor, who finally shrugged and nodded. He left with a nod at Darcy. The click of the door behind him was ominously loud.

“Please just spit it out,” Darcy said finally when Jane took an inordinately long time to get settled in the chair, repositioning it and fiddling about.

“Victor kind of used to be a bad guy.”

Darcy thought about it. “Well,” she said slowly, “so did Bucky. And Natasha.”

“He kind of used to be a bad guy until really quite recently.”

“How recently?”

“Kind of right up until you got thrown into the cell next to his, I believe.”

She was so not ready to deal with that. She put her forearm over her eyes and kept it there until Jane left.

When Darcy woke again, Victor was back in the chair by the bed. Watching her.

“So you know,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Are you going to hurt anybody I care about?” Darcy asked finally.

“Never.” His grey eyes watched her with an almost unnerving intensity.

“Is anyone going to try to hurt me to get to you?”

One corner of his lip lifted to show a sharp canine and he let out a low, rumbling snarl. “If they do, they die.”

Darcy realised she could live with that. ‘Good guys’ didn’t target partners and families. That was bad guy tactics. “Am I going to have to peacemake between you and the people you’ve pissed off?”

Victor cracked a small smile at that. “Very likely. My brother, you know already. You’ll definitely have to convince him that I’ve switched sides for your sake.”

“I do? Who?” Darcy blinked incredulously.

“Logan.”

She had to think about it for a minute; the IV in her arm was definitely running in something that fuzzed her brain. Morphine, she guessed. “ _Wolverine?_ ” she gasped finally. Now that she’d said it, she could see the family resemblance, actually. The two men were quite a lot alike.

Victor inclined his head.

“So what’s your name?” Darcy had to ask. “There’s no way everyone just calls you Victor…”

“Sabretooth.” He parted his lips, showed her his fangs. Held his hands up and extended the brutal inch-long claws that were normally almost completely concealed within his fingers.

“Shiiiit.” She should be much more afraid, Darcy thought, but somehow she was utterly convinced that he would never, ever hurt her.

“I won’t hurt you. Not ever. If you want me gone, I’m gone, Darcy.”

His expression was blank as he said the words. Completely still.

“I don’t want you gone,” she said softly at last. “You’re my soulmate, and there’s a reason for that.” Carefully she reached out and put a fingertip to the top of one of his claws, careful to avoid the sharp tip and bladed underside. It felt hard and cold, shimmering bright in the hospital lights. “What is it?”

“Adamantium sheath. Same as the stuff Logan’s claws are made of.”

“They experimented on you, too,” Darcy realised. “Oh, _Victor_.”

His expression shifted, and he retracted his claws abruptly. “Don’t pity me,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t deserve it.”

And once again, he walked out on her.

“I’m going to cure you of that bad habit, Victor Creed!” Darcy shouted after him. She scowled at her leg. “Just as soon as I can fucking walk again.”

She was transferred to New York the following day, and Victor wasn’t on the flight. Jane professed ignorance of his whereabouts, as did Thor.

The medical floor of Avengers Tower was much more comfortable, Darcy had to concede, and having Bruce Banner and Helen Cho as her doctors was insane. They ran scans and Helen was soon setting up her machines to fix Darcy’s leg.

“We’ll grow you a new piece of ligament,” the slender scientist murmured, positioning the machine on Darcy’s leg. “You’ll be on your feet again in no time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Helen had been quite right, of course. Within half an hour Darcy was walking again, pacing up and down slowly at first with the support of Thor’s willing arm, and then testing her leg more thoroughly. Once Helen and Bruce cleared her to go, though, she promptly said;

“Where’s Victor?”

“He said he had something to do,” Thor said, and then shrugged when she pressed him for information. “I do not know, Darcy.”

Over the next few weeks, it became very apparent what it was that Victor felt he ‘had to do’. All of a sudden, various criminals who had been eluding the long arm of the law started turning up bound and gagged on the steps of police stations worldwide. Dangerous mutants were delivered to the gates of Xavier’s Academy, drugged and wearing power inhibitors.

Logan turned up to talk to Darcy – bringing Jean Grey with him. _Of course_ , Darcy thought cynically. _Bring a telepath to make sure I haven’t somehow selected Victor’s targets on this little anti-crime spree of his_. She wasn’t quite sure it reached the level of vigilantism. No-one actually seemed to be hurt other than a few bruises and the odd scratch.

It was Logan who eventually tracked Victor down, as he was preparing to go into a fight with Magneto.

“This has to stop,” Logan growled, confronting his brother.

“Nearly done.”

“No, Victor! This isn’t your fight. You’re outmatched against him. He knows you’re comin’ for him.”

Victor snarled. “Outta my way, I gotta do this, Logan!”

“For Darcy?”

The word stopped him cold. “She asked me if there were people who would come after her to get to me,” Victor said finally. “I realised that I couldn’t handle that. Knowin’ that there were. So I did what I had to do to keep her safe.”

“You took them all out of play first.” Logan had long since figured _that_ out. “But Magneto, he’s outta your league, brother.”

Victor stood silent, staring at Logan. “So what do I do?”

Logan gestured, and from over the hill behind them, figures emerged, walking silently through early morning mist. The X-Men. “We take him together. His glass prison’s all ready for him again.”

Victor stared for a long moment. And then he smiled, showing his fangs. “Let’s go. Darcy’s waitin’ on me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey.”

Darcy screamed and fell off her office chair. She never reached the floor, though, powerful hands grabbing her and lifting her back to the seat easily.

“Sorry I startled you.”

“Jesus, learn to make some noise while you walk!” Darcy clutched at her chest, panting as she stared up at Victor. “I’ll buy you some freaking tap shoes or something!”

He smiled down at her. “Only for you would I wear them, Darcy.”

“How did you get in here anyway?” They were back at the observatory, following a couple of weeks at Avengers Tower while Stark massively upgraded their security, and Clint and Natasha trained some guards for them.

Victor only raised an eyebrow at that.

“Are you finished with your little anti-crime spree now?” Darcy folded her arms defensively and looked up at him.

“Anti-crime spree,” he mused. “I like the sound of that. Yes, Darcy, I have. You’re safe.”

“I’m…” suddenly she realised what he’d done, and exactly why. “Oh, _Victor_.” Her blue eyes softened, her arms unfolded. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He knelt at her feet. “I did. It’s a small start to what I have to do to make amends to those I’ve hurt, but the beginning had to be making sure you’ll always be safe.”

She reached out to touch his grizzled cheek and he closed his eyes, turned his head and rubbed against her palm like a cat. Darcy _melted_.

“Thank you,” she whispered softly.

“You gotta be safe, Darcy.”

It was instinct for him, she realised, an innate, inborn need to protect his mate. The thought of a man as dangerous as Victor feeling that way about _her_ made something bloom inside Darcy, a hot, fiery lust.

He scented it, of course, his nostrils flaring, pupils darkening as he looked at her. “ _Darcy_ ,” he whispered, his voice a low, rasping rumble. His tongue flicked out to lick over his lips, and she shivered in sudden, wanton delight.

Victor’s fingers curled, his claws emerging a fraction. “If you don’t want me to fuck you right now, then you need to tell me to leave,” he said, and there wasn’t much human left in the growl of his voice.

“Unnn. Are you going to shred all my clothes off and fuck me roughly?”

“That was goin’ through my mind, yeah.”

“Then just give me one minute,” she spun her office chair away from him, headed over to the door and closed it, twisting the lock. _Thank Thor she had her own private office here_. Then she turned back to Victor and smiled. “Come and catch me, then.”

Her desk was between them. He cleared it in a single bound, had her pinned up against the door less than a second after her challenge. “You didn’t run,” he growled down at her, lifting her off her feet.

“I didn’t want to,” Darcy panted, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Sometime, we’ll do this outside. You can run, try and escape me. I’ll take my time hunting you down,” he snarled it in her ear, and Darcy shuddered with wanton lust, eyes rolling back in her head.

“Cat playing with a mouse?”

“Mm-hmm. And then I’ll eat you all up.”

She had no doubt about what he meant, not with that hardness pushing against her groin, the way he licked at her earlobe, worrying at it with his tongue – which was very long and agile, _oh Thor was she ever in trouble_. Cats did like to play with their prey, after all. Darcy had the feeling that this wasn’t going to be quick, as Victor turned, carrying her back across the room to her desk and setting her bottom on it, looking down at her with hungry eyes.

“D’you like these clothes?”

“Not as much as I will when you’ve ripped them off,” Darcy was almost delirious with need.

Victor didn’t ask again. His woman, his _mate_ , wanted this, wanted what _he_ wanted. Viciously sharp claws unsheathed. He didn’t put a single scratch on her pale skin, though, as he methodically sliced the unwanted fabric of her shirt away, revealing her lush body to his gaze.

Darcy moaned as a claw hooked under the front of her bra, the silk parting instantly, her breasts tumbling free.

“Fuuuck,” Victor breathed, gazing down at her, braced back on her arms, those magnificent pillowy breasts thrust up as she arched, tipping her head back, exposing her throat to him, perfectly vulnerable, utterly beautiful. And soon to be completely _his_.

“Please,” Darcy whimpered, so he pushed her down on the desk and bent over her, cupping her breasts in his big hands, marvelling at the way the soft flesh filled them to perfection. Her nipples, plump and pink, hardened as he brushed the tip of his thumbs lightly over them, so he leaned down and licked, dragging his tongue roughly around the sensitive little nub of flesh.

“Oh, guuuhhhhh,” Darcy groaned eloquently as Victor went to work on her breasts with his mouth. She felt the light prick of his sharp canines occasionally, but he was careful not to let them pierce her skin, and the feeling was insanely erotic as he plumped and suckled her breasts. She ran her hands over his short hair, marvelling at the texture; it was _silky_ , more like a cat’s fur than any human hair she’d ever touched. She dug her nails in lightly and heard a rumbling sound… was he actually _purring_?

“There’s my good kitty cat,” she murmured.

Victor groaned disgustedly, but he couldn’t stop the purring rumbling deep in his chest as she kept stroking and scratching at his scalp. He melted against her, rubbing himself over her, just like a huge cat as she petted him. Darcy _adored_ it, especially since the purring as he licked and suckled on her nipples felt _really_ nice. Finally he pulled back, the pupils in his grey eyes huge, the purr still rumbling loudly in his broad chest, and ran his hands lightly down her stomach to her pants, the claws emerging again.

Darcy watched in awe as he curved his claws under the waistband and drew them downwards in a long smooth sweep, the ribbons of ragged fabric curling away from her legs. The cold metal of the backs of his claws sliding on her skin made her shiver a little with anticipation as Victor flung the rags aside, reached to slip off her shoes. Her only covering now was a pair of silky blue bikini panties that had matched her bra, and they were gone with another flick of his claws.

She lay back on the desk, on the ruins of her clothing, and held her arms out to him in welcome.

Victor could hardly breathe. “So lovely,” he rumbled. “What did I do to deserve you, Darcy?” He shrugged out of his coat, peeled off the long-sleeved tee he wore beneath. Unbuckled his belt, toed his boots off and stripped out of his pants.

Darcy watched eagerly as he discarded his clothes, admiring his broad chest, thickly fuzzed with dark hair, flat stomach, narrow waist. Her eyes travelled down to his arousal, sized well in proportion to his thick frame, and she licked her lips hungrily.

“You know it isn’t about what you deserve, Victor,” she told him. “Soulmates are about finding the one person who can give you what you need to be whole. You need me – and I need you, so get over here and fuck me before I go mad.”

He moved inhumanly fast, stooping over her, gazing at her face, and Darcy realised suddenly that he hadn’t even kissed her yet. She reached up to put her hands on his shoulders, pulling him down, only he didn’t move so she ended up pulling herself upwards, one of his strong hands slipping around her waist to support her.

“Kiss me,” she begged, reaching for his mouth – he was _stupidly_ tall – and he licked his lips, showing a flash of fang, but still seemed hesitant.

“Darcy, my teeth are too sharp. I can work around them, but you could easily cut yourself.”

Darcy wasn’t the type to blush. So she looked into his eyes and told him what she wanted. “I’m not planning to try and stick my tongue in your mouth. I want yours in mine. I want _you_ in _me_.”

“You really are made just for me, aren’t you?” he snarled softly just before his lips met hers.

Darcy moaned with delight as Victor’s tongue thrust roughly into her mouth, licking and stroking harshly. She suckled on his tongue, clinging to his broad shoulders, felt his long hand stroke up her outer thigh then and parted her legs eagerly.

He stroked gently, very careful to keep his claws fully sheathed. Used the pad of his thumb to rub over her clit, feeling her fingers tighten on his shoulders, her body shake against him as two long, thick fingers pushed slowly into her weeping pussy.

“So wet,” Victor growled, lifting his head. “So wet for me.”

“Want you so much,” Darcy moaned in response. “ _Please_ , Victor!”

He smiled down at her. “I like cream, you know.”

It took a moment for Darcy’s lust-addled brain to put that together, and then she moaned frantically as he pushed her back down on the desk again and went to his knees, putting his face right between her thighs, kissing along the soft tender flesh.

Darcy whimpered desperately as Victor began slowly, methodically, to stroke her inner thighs with his tongue. _Washing_ her, just like a cat, slowly working his way in towards her soaking, needy core. Darcy sent up a little prayer of thanks that she’d hopefully gone out and gotten a wax the day before, when Logan had texted her that Victor should be on his way to her soon. She was bare and clean and there was nothing in the way to slow Victor down – she jumped as his tongue flicked suddenly, deftly over her clit.

He still had two fingers inside her, twisted around now, pumping slowly in and out as he lapped on her clit. Darcy’s moans and cries increased in pitch, her breath coming in quick pants, hips rolling on the desk. Victor began to purr again, unable to stop himself, and Darcy sobbed frantically as the vibrations along his tongue drove her insane.

She was starting to quiver, getting really close to her peak, Victor thought, and despite a very great desire to taste his soulmate coming on his tongue, he wanted far more to feel her coming on his aching, swollen cock. Palming himself with his free hand, he stood quickly, leaning over Darcy again.

“Do you need me to use a condom, Darcy?” He couldn’t catch anything and he suspected she already knew that, but if she could get pregnant – his animal side wanted nothing more than to see her belly swollen with his young, but he had to let her choose when. _If_. Being his soulmate, he hoped that she wanted the same as he did.

“No,” she panted, “want it, please, Victor, oh, please, so close, _I need you_!”

He wouldn’t make her ask again. Reaching for her ankles, he seized them in his hands, lifted them to his shoulders, Darcy’s bottom coming up off the desk as he lined up his cock with her pussy. She grabbed onto the edge of the desk with both hands, making him grin as he fitted the wide, flared head of his cock against her opening, soaking with her juices, and pushed in slowly.

“You better hang on tight, Darcy.”

His voice was barely intelligible, but Darcy had already concluded that hanging on tight was going to be necessary. She squeezed hard on the edge of the desk as Victor filled her in one long, slow thrust, bringing his hands down her legs, his arms along the outside of her thighs as he grasped her bottom in his big hands, pulling her hips off the edge of the desk so he could fuck deep into her, her ass meeting his groin at last.

She took him like a champion, his soulmate; he wasn’t a small man but she was perfect for him, opening up and drawing him deep, little cries spilling from her lips driving him wild, her gorgeous breasts jiggling as he began to thrust, slow at first and then harder, rougher, watching Darcy all the time to make sure he wasn’t doing too much.

“More!” Darcy begged frantically, “please, Victor, please, harder!”

He needed it too, but neither of them would get what they wanted at this angle. Pulling out abruptly, he lifted Darcy, turned her to her stomach.

“Oh God yes,” she said throatily, standing on tiptoe, lifting her ass for him, reaching across the desk to hold onto its further edge. “Fuck me _good_.”

Victor’s eyes were trained on her ass, on the black words scribbled right on the meat of her rounded buttock. Corresponding with the neat writing on the front of his groin. If he took her this way, there was no way that they’d avoid the words coming into contact.

“Darcy, do you want to bond?”

“Yes!” she shouted, frustrated beyond endurance. “Yes, fuck me, bond me, make me yours, Victor, do it fucking _now_!”

He would never be able to deny her anything, least of all _this_ , so he obeyed, plunging deep and driving hard, his hands holding her hips up and steady for him, lifting her feet off the floor as he pistoned in and out.

Darcy shrieked as Victor slammed into her again and again and again, almost brutal, exactly the way she liked it best only so much _better_ because his strength was quite literally superhuman, as was his endurance, and instead of getting tired and slowing after only a few strokes, he was actually getting _faster_ , the delicious friction building incredibly until it finally tipped her over the edge, falling with a long, drawn-out wail of ecstasy.

“Darcy!” It was a roar of triumph as he held her still, hard against him, spasming internal muscles milking a flood of seed from his cock, the bond born between them as their minds opened to each other in the moment of climax.

“Darcy, Darcy, Darcy,” Victor was whispering, stroking her hair. She hummed with contentment, rolling her head sideways against his chest.

He’d staggered back after the shock of the bond completed, but held onto her, taking her with him. Limp with ecstasy, Darcy had literally just hung from his hands until he managed to sit down on her office chair, holding her on his lap – still impaled on his cock. He had no intention of pulling out, of letting her go, until he absolutely had to. He held her close instead, petting her hair, whispering her name, still stunned with the wonder of feeling her, of knowing how much she already loved him, despite – or perhaps even because of – the horrors of his past.

“Victor,” she sighed his name at last, smiled as he kissed her brow.

“ _Mine_ ,” he rumbled possessively, and Darcy smiled with utter contentment, laying her hands lightly on the strong arms wrapped securely around her and closing her eyes.

“Yes,” she agreed happily. “I am most _definitely_ yours.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **All right, with that prize out of the way (and I hope it’s everything you hoped for, symphilyyours)** **Pyro/Iceman/Jemma is next up, as requested by thedarkqueenofangels, TheVorpalQueen, Greennonmonster, Lia, Daylights, Luna064, bumble.bee.kawaii, stuartzomboy, SwifteForeverandAlways, Altaira, Liles217 and ScratchPen.**
> 
>  
> 
> **The list as it currently stands is in the next chapter. If you want to vote, go on to the next chapter, pick a ship you haven’t already voted for, and then come BACK to this chapter to place your vote in the comments, please!**
> 
>  
> 
>  


	17. Pyro/Iceman/Jemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Continues on from[Chapter 117, _Punctuation Problems_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/7956516)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As requested by thedarkqueenofangels, TheVorpalQueen, Greennonmonster, Lia, Daylights, Luna064, bumble.bee.kawaii, stuartzomboy, SwifteForeverandAlways, Altaira, Liles217 and ScratchPen.**
> 
> **This is AU after AoS Season 2, episode 12.**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/shawn%20ashmore_zpstirib9jy.jpg.html) [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/aaron%20stanford_zpsjzcnvswi.jpg.html)

Jemma couldn’t stop looking at them. They all stood in Coulson’s office, letting Jean do the talking, explaining things. She and Scott felt it would be best to take Skye back to the school for now, where she could work on gaining control of her powers safely. And although apparently they’d originally thought that John and Bobby, with similar elemental powers, might be the best teachers for her, the fact that she and Scott had proved to be Skye’s soulmates had changed their thinking.

That, and the fact that John and Bobby apparently had absolutely no intention of leaving.

“We stay with our soulmate.”

Jemma had thought that John would be the more stubborn one, but it was Bobby speaking, his tone implacable, arms folded, blue eyes steady as he met Coulson’s gaze. Neither of them had strayed more than an arm’s length from Jemma since they discovered their soulmateship, and one of them seemed always close enough to be touching her. Right now, it was John, his hand resting lightly against the small of her back, hot through her thin blouse. She was incredibly conscious of it, of the way he stood just behind her, his breath stirring her hair very slightly.

“Agent Simmons,” Coulson said, and she started, realising it wasn’t the first time he’d said her name.

“Sir?”

“Are _you_ comfortable with Drake and Allerdyce remaining here, on indefinite secondment to SHIELD? If you’d like to talk to me, or Agent May, about this _privately_ , we can make that happen…”

“No, thank you, sir. That won’t be necessary.” She glanced at Bobby, smiled shyly, reassuringly at his concerned expression. “I’m very happy for them to stay with me. Um, stay _here_. With SHIELD.”

Coulson dismissed her to go help Skye pack. John and Bobby moved to follow her, but Coulson asked them to stay for a few moments. So that he could ‘brief them on SHIELD procedures’. Jemma guessed that was Coulson-code for ‘deliver a shovel talk’. It wasn’t until the door separating her from her soulmates closed that Jemma suddenly realised why they’d been staying so close to her. She felt – lost. Exposed, almost, without their presence close by. Skye, walking between Scott and Jean, their shoulders brushing hers, was oblivious to her lagging behind.

It was Bobbi who came out of a side office and grabbed Jemma’s arm, snapping fingers in front of her nose. “Simmons. Jemma! Snap out of it.”

“But…” she looked longingly back down the corridor towards Coulson’s office.

“Shit, she’s in deep,” Hunter’s voice said behind Bobbi. “Strong bond.”

“There isn’t a bond, yet!” Bobbi shook Jemma’s shoulders, stooping to peer into her eyes. “Jemma, _listen to me_. You’re not thinking clearly right now.”

“No,” Jemma agreed cheerfully.

“The sooner you bond with them, the deeper and stronger the bond will be. Don’t make our mistake,” Bobbi glanced at Hunter, who looked away. “We waited too long to bond because I was scared. It’s a weak bond, will never be more, and I’ll always regret it.”

“Wait – you’re telling me to…”

“Go fuck,” Hunter said bluntly. “We’ll cover for you.”

Jemma blinked at them both, utterly confounded, and then Bobbi shoved her back out into the corridor again, slamming the door behind her, and she found herself suddenly alone with her soulmates.

“Jemma,” John said, his voice dropping low. Neither of them could stop staring at her, moving closer…

“This way,” Jemma said in an extremely squeaky voice and set off at a fast walk. _Got to get somewhere private_ , she thought frantically _, or this is going to be embarrassing…_

Boots sounded behind her, and then she heard John’s voice again, speaking to Bobby, soft but just about audible to her sharp hearing. “ _Look_ at that ass.”

“We are so fucking lucky.”

Jemma was dripping between her legs. She walked faster, heading for the accommodation wing, for once thankful that SHIELD was low on manpower and she had been allocated a much nicer suite than she once would have merited according to rank. She had a queen sized bed and a private bath, at least. Opening the door, she gestured John and Bobby inside.

“This our accommodation?” John said. “Wait…” as he started to spot the signs of occupation. Jemma was tidy – all right, a neat freak – but there were one or two personal items on the dresser and her robe on a hook on the wall.

“ _Jemma_ ,” Bobby said her name low and soft as she closed the door and locked it. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, unable to speak just then. Untucked her blouse from the waistband of her skirt and began to unbutton it.

The two men moved as one, not even needing to glance at each other. “Let us do that.” They’d even spoken in unison, and Jemma realised that they must already share a bond, even if it had to be an incomplete one.

“How long have you two known each other?” she asked as two pairs of strong hands settled on her waist before Bobby took over unbuttoning her blouse and John unzipped her skirt.

“We met in our early teens,” Bobby admitted, “but… we were both too young to give it a go, then. Chose to be friends for a while, hope that we’d find our third quickly. The sexual pull got to be too much, though, and we both handled it wrong, started fighting.”

“I made some bad calls,” John said honestly as Jemma’s skirt fell to puddle around her feet. “Got mixed up with a bad crowd. It took Bob almost dying to make me pull my head out of my arse.”

“We all make mistakes,” Jemma said quietly, “we do things that we think are right at the time, and then later realise that we were being driven by the wrong motives.”

John looked deep in her eyes and nodded understandingly, smiling. “I’m glad you understand.” Slowly, he bent his head to kiss her, and Jemma parted her lips willingly, felt his hot tongue sweep into her mouth as one broad hand came up to cradle her head.

Bobby groaned softly. “Fuck, you two are so beautiful together.” He pressed against Jemma’s side, dropping light kisses against her collarbone as he pulled her open blouse away, reaching around John to pull his shirt up at the back and trace cool fingers up his spine.

John groaned into Jemma’s mouth, lifted his head. “Want to touch you. Want to _taste_ you,” he whispered, raining hot little kisses over her cheeks. “Will you trust us, beautiful?”

Bobby chose that exact moment to bite her gently just below her ear, and Jemma’s knees gave out. She clutched at both of them, the only sound she could get out a whimpered “Oh _please_.”

“All you have to do is say the word, sweetheart,” Bobby’s strong arm around her waist held her up, pulled her back towards the bed. John came with them. “Just tell us what you want. Anything you want, it’s yours, _we’re_ yours.”

Jemma shrugged her blouse off her shoulders, flung it carelessly aside. Reached up to put one hand to the back of each of their heads and bring them both down to her – honestly, she couldn’t decide which of them she wanted to kiss more, they were both so damned hot, she couldn’t think at all straight. They ended up all dropping down onto the bed together, the two men half on top of her, all eager hands and seeking mouths.

It was Bobby who kissed her this time, his mouth cool but just as passionate as John’s kiss had been, and John who slid down the bed to kiss and caress her breasts through her bra, making Jemma arch up into his touch and shudder, her fingers tightening in his hair. John made a pleased little noise and eased his hand under her to unhook her bra, pulling it away from her breasts and pressing his face between them, plumping the soft flesh in his hands. He made a _vroom_ sound and Jemma laughed into Bobby’s mouth and tugged on John’s hair.

“No motorboating,” she said mock-sternly when Bobby stopped kissing her to look around.

“But I’ve missed tits so much,” John mumbled plaintively, looking up at her from grey-blue eyes. “And yours are fucking gorgeous.”

“Share, you greedy pig,” Bobby elbowed John, and the Australian grinned and moved over. Bobby slid down the bed too, curving his hands around the breast John had released, and Jemma moaned as she realised what they intended.

“Sensitive?” John inquired, cocking a wicked eyebrow. “Good.”

Two pairs of lips closed on her nipples at the exact same moment, and Jemma had a moment of clear thought to be very thankful that the Playground’s accommodation block was well soundproofed, because she was almost immediately making quite disgraceful noises, panting and begging, digging her nails into their hair and pleading incoherently for _more_.

John’s mouth was hot, Bobby’s cold; the contrast was incredible, making Jemma sob and shiver as two hands wandered slowly down her stomach, one warm, one cool, before sliding her panties down her thighs.

They were in sync, one drawing her nipple into his mouth for a long suckle as the other one released, then one cool finger flicking lightly over her clit before a warm one followed it. Jemma knew instantly that she wouldn’t last long, that she would come soon and hard. She relaxed into it, letting the feelings wash over her, crying out as hot fingers thrust inside her suddenly.

“Mm,” Bobby licked John’s fingers as he offered them, both of them watching Jemma as she trembled and whimpered beneath them.

“She’s so fucking lovely,” John murmured. “Just look. _God_ ,” he palmed himself through his pants.

“You fuck her first,” Bobby said quietly, digging in his back pocket for his wallet and finding a couple of condoms first.

“You sure?” but John took the condom packet eagerly and climbed off the bed, stripping off the rest of his clothes as Bobby kept his fingers leisurely teasing around Jemma’s dripping slit.

“My mouth,” Jemma mumbled.

“What’s that, beautiful?” Bobby said, looking down at her as John rolled the condom on.

“Want you – in my mouth,” she reached up, traced her fingers over his flat stomach, plucked at his belt. “Want you to _fuck_ my mouth,” Jemma elucidated when Bobby looked surprised.

“I am never, ever going to say no to that,” Bobby fumbled at his belt hastily as John grinned, kneeling between Jemma’s legs.

“He loves getting blown,” John confided, his voice low. “Got a beautiful cock too, don’t you think?”

Jemma agreed, definitely, as Bobby shoved his pants and shorts down to his knees and she got a good look. Thick and curving upwards. Licking her lips, she reached out her hands towards him.

“Let’s get you comfortable first,” John lifted her a little, raised her head and shoulders up on the pillows, as Bobby nestled onto the bed beside her, the head of his cock just out of reach of Jemma’s eager mouth. She whined grumpily, but they’d seized her hands, John grasping one and holding it gently but firmly down to her side, Bobby taking the other and threading his fingers through hers.

“You are _lovely_ ,” John trailed his fingers gently up through her pussy, lifted his hand and licked at her juices. “Delicious.” His voice dropped to a rumble as Jemma lifted her knees instinctively, planting her feet on the mattress and tilting her hips invitingly.

Bobby groaned enviously as John lowered his head, kissing down Jemma’s stomach as his fingers went back to their play. “Leave me some.”

“Oh,” John glanced up at him and grinned as he reached Jemma’s groin, “don’t worry, love. I don’t think there’s gonna be a shortage any time soon.” The first swipe of his tongue over Jemma’s swollen, sensitive clit had her crying out, clenching her fingers tightly on Bobby’s, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Tell us what you want, sweetheart,” Bobby said softly as Jemma’s body arched under the ministrations of John’s hot tongue and stroking fingers.

“Bond,” Jemma managed to choke out. “Want – bond.”

They both stilled, John popping up from between her legs to stare at her.

“Nothing would make us happier, angel,” John said quietly, “but are you sure? You know what we are…”

“My soulmates,” Jemma agreed, pulling her hands free of theirs and twisting her wrists to show the marks on the inside of her forearms, the marks she normally covered with long-sleeved blouses.

“Uhhh,” Bobby said eloquently. “Mine’s – mine’s on my inner thigh.”

“Looks like this is going to work nicely,” John grinned, blue eyes half-closing with amusement. “Mine are both on my back, and Bob’s other one is on his ankle.” He twisted round and Jemma saw her scribbled writing on the back of his shoulder, Bobby’s neater script at the small of his back.

“ _Hi, welcome to the school_ ,” she read disbelievingly.

“Told you we met when we were kids. I wasn’t as polite,” John smiled ruefully, sitting back and ripping the condom open to roll it on.

Bobby snorted, lifted his ankle to show Jemma the scrawled script on the inside of his ankle. _Fuck off, pretty boy._ “Understatement.”

Jemma giggled, cutting off with a gasp as John’s warm hands closed on her hips and he pressed against her slowly. “You ready for this, beautiful?”

“It’s been a long time,” she admitted, looking up at him from huge, vulnerable hazel eyes, “and I want this so much but – I think you’d better go slow.”

“Slow as you like, beautiful,” he leaned down to kiss her, whispered, “you’re so wet – gonna make it real easy.” Lean hips were rocking, pressing his erection a tiny way into her before drawing back, and Jemma blushed a little as she heard the slick sounds that proved his words. John lifted his head with a smile, leaned sideways to lick a quick stripe over Bobby’s cock. “Here you go, Bob,” he grinned at his male soulmate. “That lovely mouth’s all yours.”

Bobby had been leaning casually on one elbow, watching avidly as John pressed gently into Jemma. He groaned as John’s tongue caressed him briefly, hips jerking forward involuntarily, and then Jemma’s slim hand was wrapping around the base of his cock, her soft pink lips parting to suck the swollen head into her mouth.

“Oh God, you’re so beautiful,” the two men spoke in unison as Jemma’s lips stretched around Bobby’s cock and she looked from one to the other of them with huge doelike eyes.

John groaned deeply, met Bobby’s stunned, passion-filled eyes and smiled, rocking his hips a little faster, thrusting gently into Jemma, leaning back and sliding his hands under her thighs to lift her hips so he could get deeper. She moaned throatily around Bobby’s cock, making him moan in turn as her mouth slipped further down his cock.

It felt too good, for all three of them. John could sense it in the way Jemma’s wet tunnel clamped tightly around him, see it in Bobby as his blue eyes closed and his neck arched, feel it in the tingles running up his own spine. “Hands,” he managed to rasp out. “Jemma, your hands…” He reached out, grabbed at Bobby’s leg, and Bobby nodded and lifted his foot, hooked it over John’s hip. The familiar thrum of the soulbond, incomplete but still beautiful, as their marks made contact made them both moan with increased pleasure.

“Jemma,” Bobby’s cool fingers curled gently around her wrist, lifting it away from his cock. She made a protesting sound, pulling off for a moment.

“But…! Ohhh,” her eyes flew wide as he pressed her wrist against his thigh. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with the urge to take him back into her mouth, started licking and sucking almost frantically as a tingling sensation raced up her arm. His hand cupped around her head, stroked her hair lightly.

“Put your other arm around John,” Bobby told her, and Jemma reached up blindly, desperately, throwing her arm around the strong body above her.

“ _Fuck_ yeah!” John cried out loudly, his hips jolting to drive deep into Jemma as her arm landed across his shoulders and their marks touched. “Yes, oh shit, that’s… ahhhh!”

They were all making a lot of noise, the two man frantic groans and cries, Jemma moaning around Bobby’s cock as he came into her greedily sucking mouth. She almost choked, her own orgasm making it hard for her to swallow as every muscle in her body seemed to seize all at once, her back arching up as John shoved in one last time and groaned, flooding the condom hotly deep inside her.

Feeling Jemma choke, Bobby pulled out, falling back against the pillows with a deeply pleasured sigh. A little trickle of his seed leaked from the corner of Jemma’s mouth and John leaned down to lick it away before kissing Jemma slowly, easing gently back out of her as he did so. Grinning, he moved over to kneel over Bobby’s legs, licking him clean.

“Urrhhh,” Bobby flailed vaguely at him, and John laughed and caught his wrists.

“Easy there Ice. Just getting you back up so you can take your turn.”

“Mmm – we should give Jemma time to recover…” Bobby rolled his head to the side, found Jemma staring at them avidly, her eyes dark and hungry. “Oh… maybe not…” He hardened fast under John’s hot, knowing mouth.

Jemma scrabbled behind her without looking, dragging open the drawer in the nightstand and feeling around until her fingers closed on the unopened box of condoms. The two men were beautiful together, John deepthroating Bobby as the stocky blond’s back arched, low moans spilling from his lips.

John was watching Jemma, blue eyes intent on hers as she ripped off the wrapper on the box, her fingers shaking. Mutely she held out a foil square and John took it, pulling his mouth off Bobby’s fully-erect cock with a wet slurp and swiftly putting the condom on him.

“Come ride him,” John murmured quietly, holding his hand out to Jemma, and she took it without hesitation, moving in front of him to sit over Bobby’s hips, sliding slowly down on his thick cock as John held it upright for her.

“Ahhh,” she leaned back against John’s chest, feeling his arms wrap around her, his mouth start to press hot kisses along her shoulder. Bobby’s hands came up, cupped her breasts lightly, thumbs flicking over her nipples, an icy sensation making them stiffen as though he’d just run an ice cube over them. “Hahhh!”

There was actually ice on his fingertips, she found, looking down as he flicked them over her nipples again. Jemma bit her lip, shuddering.

“Cold?” John whispered against her neck. “I can help with that.” His chest felt insanely hot on her back, his hot hands on her stomach an incredible contrast to the icy chill of Bobby’s.

She could _feel_ them both, with the bond newly formed between them. It was a tenuous thing, would strengthen over time. For now she only had the vague impressions of Bobby’s wondering ecstasy, of John’s deep passion he so often covered with sarcasm or jokes.

“So fucking sexy,” John grated against her neck, and she felt him chafing against her bottom, his cock hardening rapidly as she moved slowly, her hips shifting as she ground herself down on Bobby’s cock. “Think you can take us both, beautiful?” One warm hand moved down her stomach, a long finger began to circle her clit firmly.

“Please,” Jemma moaned, “oh please yes.”

“Lube?” he asked quietly.

“Drawer,” she flapped her hand vaguely, and he nodded, moved off for a moment, leaving Bobby and Jemma alone. Bobby’s cool hands were still playing with Jemma’s breasts, though he’d dispelled the ice now, and he started to move faster now John’s weight was off his legs, planting his feet on the mattress and arching to thrust upwards.

“So good,” he groaned, eyes locked with Jemma’s. “So _fucking_ good, Jemma!”

She was enjoying how he felt inside her so much that she barely noticed John moving behind her until he was there again, chest pressing against her back, kneeling between Bobby’s thighs this time. “Did you miss me?” he whispered in Jemma’s ear, “or are you having too much fun fucking Ice?”

“Didn’t even notice you’d gone, Pyro,” Bobby said in a voice rough with passion.

“Well you’re gonna notice I’m back.” John kissed Jemma’s shoulder, and then she felt his hand on her bottom. His other hand moved lower, she felt his wrist against her, and guessed what he was doing as Bobby groaned and bucked up harder against her suddenly, making her gasp. As she came down she felt John’s fingers against her ass, warm and wet with lube, pressing in slowly, the slight burn so pleasurable she let out a little shriek of pleasure.

John didn’t have to ask why Jemma shrieked. He could _feel_ her building need, her desire for _more_ , as she pushed back against his fingers, trying to take them deeper.

“Easy, beautiful,” he whispered against her ear, nipping lightly at her earlobe, looking down over her shoulder at Bobby playing with her breasts, the expression on his soulmate’s face half-drunken with pleasure. “No hurry.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bobby groaned, making John chuckle and run his fingers lower over Bobby’s balls, press lightly at his perineum.

“Please,” Jemma sobbed, rolling her head back against his shoulder, kissing frantically at his jawline, “please, I want it, I need it, oh _Pyro_ …” she’d used the name without thought, since Bobby used it most of the time anyway.

Both of the men grunted at hearing her beg, and John’s fingers started working faster, opening her up for him. Jemma rolled her hips desperately, little pleas spilling from her, her fingers clutching at Bobby’s strong forearms as he rolled her nipples in his chilly fingertips.

At last, John was too desperate to wait any longer. Slipping his fingers from Jemma, he reached for the lube again, slicked his sheathed cock thoroughly.

“Hold still a moment,” he commanded them both, and had to hold Jemma’s hips steady with his hands as she sobbed with need and kept grinding against Bobby. “Easy, Jemma. Easy. Gotta take this slow, I don’t want to hurt you.”

She squealed as the tip of his cock breached the tight ring of muscle, a long, high ululation of pure ecstasy, and came helplessly, clenching so tightly that both John and Bobby saw stars for a moment. Bobby growled deep in his chest, bit down hard on his tongue to avoid coming there and then.

“ _Fuck_ , beautiful,” John grated out, hanging on tight to Jemma’s hips, firmly enough that he would leave fingerprint bruises he would regret the following day but Jemma would laugh over. “ _So_ fucking tight…”

At last she stilled, leaning back against his chest shaking with aftershock, her clenching internal muscles slowly softening and relaxing.

“Lay down on Ice, beautiful,” John kissed her neck, eased her forward into Bobby’s waiting arms. “That’s it.” It made it easier for him to lean in too, pushing slowly deeper into Jemma, smirking as she squealed and writhed against the incredible fullness she felt.

“I can _feel_ you,” Bobby rasped, and John nodded. Separated only by a thin wall of tissue, he could indeed feel Bobby inside Jemma.

“So good,” he groaned back, eyes ravenously devouring the sight of Jemma between them, her hair tumbled on Bobby’s chest, Bobby’s arms holding her tight, still for him as John pushed deeper. At last he was fully sheathed in her tight passage, having to bite his lips for a moment to keep his control. “So lovely,” leaning down, he kissed the back of Jemma’s neck, across her shoulder, before kissing Bobby, who smiled at him.

“You okay, Jemma?” Bobby stroked lightly at the small of Jemma’s back.

She laughed breathlessly against his shoulder, jolting as the tremor in her body caused the two thick cocks inside her to shift slightly. “Never felt better in my life.”

“Well get ready to feel even better,” he curled one hand up around her back and held onto her shoulder, “because you’re about to get the best sex of your life, angel.”

She whined as they started to move, a continuous high-pitched sound, but she couldn’t help it, really she couldn’t. They were perfectly in sync again, alternating their thrusts, John easing back as Bobby drove deep and vice versa. It felt so _good_ ; she’d never had a threesome before, had considered it since she was fairly sure her soulmates would both be male, but the opportunity had never presented itself.

Jemma could feel their building need, both of them rapidly approaching the end, and clutched at Bobby, moaning frantically as their own ecstasy pushed her higher too, driving her towards what she suspected might be a peak far beyond anything she’d ever experienced before.

John’s hands tightened on her hips and he paused for an instant before synchronising with Bobby again, only this time they were both thrusting into her at the same time, filling her impossibly full, stretching her to her limits, and Jemma was gone, screaming in ecstasy, her orgasm triggering theirs so they both shouted and pulsed hotly inside her at the same time, holding her between them, kissing her face and neck. Strong hands caressed her, low voices praised her as she slowly came down and lay on Bobby’s chest utterly limp with pleasure.

John braced himself on one arm so that he didn’t crush Jemma between them with his weight, pressed kisses gently along her spine, tasting her sweat on his lips. “You okay, beautiful?” he said softly when she was still breathing fast after a couple of minutes.

She couldn’t get a coherent word out. Her brain was utterly scrambled. She just lay still on Bobby’s broad chest and sighed ecstatically, felt their amusement at her fucked-out state echoing along the bond. John kissed her spine again before drawing back, slipping slowly out of her, stroking his hand gently down her back before getting off the bed and heading for the bathroom.

Bobby cuddled Jemma, not slipping out of her, until John returned and lay down beside them, and then he very gently lifted Jemma off him and laid her down in John’s arms, brushing a gentle kiss over her forehead.

Jemma made a happy little humming sound and nestled closer to John. He petted her lightly, grinning. “Have we wrecked you, beautiful?”

“Ruined,” she agreed happily, finding that her voice was a little hoarse. Must have been all the screaming she’d just done. “Absolutely ruined me. My brain is fried. I probably couldn’t even recite the periodic table of elements right now.”

John snorted at that, pulling her a little closer to him as Bobby returned and climbed in the other side of the bed, sandwiching Jemma snugly in between them. “I’m not going to bet on that. Chemistry was hardly my strong point anyway, I wouldn’t know whether you got it right or not.”

“We got all the chemistry we need right here, as far as I’m concerned,” Bobby shrugged, running a hand lightly over Jemma’s hip. She laughed, twisting over to look at him, and he took the opportunity to give her a kiss, slow and languid.

“Everything we need,” John agreed quietly, “right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sorry this one took me long to write, guys, but I’ve had family visiting from the UK for the last couple of weeks. They’ve gone now and hopefully I can start to get back into my routine – but thekids’ school holidays are coming up so I wouldn’t bet on it!**
> 
> **As always, the voting list is in the next chapter. Check out what you’d like to vote for next – you cannot vote for a ship you already registered a vote for – and then come BACK to THIS chapter to place your vote.**
> 
> **Next up is Skye/Logan, as voted for by jocillyria, LadyWinterlight, sagebows, Lia, lonelyrose03, Val9, shondaysiamccoy, darklou91, Harasume, EllaC., Daylights, TheLittleSwan, shingalala, jvestaj, cinti.linda, Liles217, Voldemort’s Dark Lady, Beatrice Diggory, unwillinglyable, Lishen, ValkyriePhoenix, Elliesmeow, Bookworm1898, king of nightmares and dragons, naru894 and Roars.**


	18. Skye/Logan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Follows on from[Chapter 24, _The Cat’s Mother._](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/6218834)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As voted for by jocillyria, LadyWinterlight, sagebows, Lia, lonelyrose03, Val9, shondaysiamccoy, darklou91, Harasume, EllaC., Daylights, TheLittleSwan, shingalala, jvestaj, cinti.linda, Liles217, Voldemort’s Dark Lady, Beatrice Diggory, unwillinglyable, Lishen, ValkyriePhoenix, Elliesmeow, Bookworm1898, king of nightmares and dragons, naru894 and Roars.**
> 
>  
> 
> **AU after S2E12.**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/wolverine%202_zpsl2mnae0s.jpg.html)

 _Three months_. Three months she'd been in the mansion, treated no differently than any of the school-aged kids, at least as far as her powers were concerned. The kids were friendly enough, but most of them were a decade her junior and not exactly going to be replacements for the camaraderie she'd shared with Jemma and Fitz. The adults in the mansion were older than Skye by a few years at least, and while kind, they also were clearly doing their best to maintain a professional teacher-student dynamic.

 _I might not be so lonely if I didn't have the distinct suspicion that my soulmate is avoiding me,_ Skye reflected gloomily, kicking disconsolately at the gravel as she walked alone along one of the garden's winding paths, hands tucked into her pockets against the biting wind. She hardly ever saw Logan, and when she did it was usually a glimpse of his retreating back. She'd learned enough about him to suspect that his sense of smell was working to her disadvantage; he scented her approach and took off before she ever had the chance to talk to him.

Logan didn't even participate in Danger Room sessions if Skye was there. And she wanted to show him, wanted him to be proud of how fast she'd mastered her new powers, how strong she was - even Cyclops, who wasn't much for praise, had offered her a rare smile and a "Well done!" just that morning when she'd knocked out a whole roomful of powerful mutants by synchronising their brainwaves into a sleeping frequency.

"You're making a mistake, Logan," a quiet voice said behind him.

"I'm good at those." He didn't bother to turn around, just stood at the window looking at the distant figure of the girl, her dark brown hair blowing around her face.

"She's lonely." The Professor's chair moved up beside him, and Xavier looked out of the window as well. "She thinks you don't want her."

"She'd be better off without me. She's young, beautiful - powerful. She could have anyone she wanted."

"Skye is your soulmate, Logan. You need to let her make her own decisions, not make them for her."

Logan said nothing, and after a few long minutes Xavier sighed and moved his chair silently away. But not without a parting shot delivered directly to Logan's brain.

_What if she does choose someone else, Logan? What then? Will you really be able to let her go that easily?_

"I have to," Logan whispered to the silent, empty room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _God damn Xavier for always being right._ Logan groped blindly for his beer, only to scowl as it slid away from his hand. "Give it back, Jean."

"Not until you stop being such a Wolverine in the manger," Jean replied sweetly.

"Fuck off!" His lips curled back from his teeth, but he never even glanced in the redhead's direction. He couldn't take his eyes off Skye, _his_ Skye, laughing merrily as Gambit showed her yet another flashy card trick.

The never-to-be-sufficiently-damned Cajun had turned up that afternoon, taken one look at Skye and turned on the effortless charm. And Skye, well, she appeared to be charmed. She'd sat by Remy at dinner and sat beside him now, her soft laugh ringing around the room regularly as the swamp rat flirted and teased, finding a playing card in her cleavage... _no, that was the fucking last straw_!

Nobody made any effort to stop Logan as he leaped to his feet and stormed across the room. Scott leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table. Ororo pulled a folded twenty-dollar bill from her pocket and handed it to Jean.

"Let the fireworks commence," Jean murmured, smirking as she pocketed the money.

Logan didn't even recall making the decision to extend his claws. But there they were, gleaming lengths of razor-sharp adamantium steel drawing three points of blood on Remy's tanned throat.

"Stay away from her, swamp rat," Logan growled, so deep it was barely intelligible. Beside Remy, Skye sat wide-eyed, staring up at Logan in shock. "She's _mine_."

" _Vraiment?_ " Remy drawled, smirking slightly. "I don't see a brand upon her, _mon ami_."

Logan's eyes narrowed.

"He's my soulmate," Skye's voice broke the rising tension, and Remy turned his head towards her, uncaring of the blood that began to trickle down his throat.

"You didn't mention that, _petite_ ," he said, surprised, and then glanced back at Logan. "Ah. Ah, I begin to comprehend, the Wolverine is being a martyr as usual."

"What?" Skye blinked.

"He thinks he does not deserve you, _petite_. Has been telling himself that you would be better off without him, that you could find happiness with another even if not your soulmate. Only, when another man shows interest, the Wolverine's animal side comes to the fore, hmm?"

Logan's claws retracted with a _snikt,_ the skin between his fingers healing instantly. The wounds on Remy's throat healed just as fast.

The silence in the room was electric, until Skye whispered a single word. "Logan?"

" _Pardonne-moi, mon ami_ ," Remy said when Logan said nothing. " _J’ignorai que cette belle jeune dame était ton âme soeur. Mais tu ferais biende la revendiquer, avant que quelqu'un d'autre ne le fasse_."

Logan quivered for a moment, staring down at Skye, before turning and leaving the room. Skye sat frozen until Remy said "You'd better go after him, petite. He's tearing himself up over you."

“I'm sorry," she said inadequately, scrambling to her feet.

" _De rien_ ," Remy waved a languid hand, but Skye was already running for the door. He looked across at Jean, Ororo and Scott, shaking his head. “You guys _totally_ set me up for that.”

“I regret _nothing_ ,” Jean said with a serene smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skye ran out into the hallway, but there was no sign of Logan. Only a startled-looking Rogue.

“Where is he?” Skye demanded, and Rogue smiled and pointed to the stairs.

“He went dahn. Better hurry. He had that look on his face lahk he’s gonna steal Cyclops’ bike again.”

 _He’s leaving_. Skye took the stairs to the basement garage two at a time, racing after Logan. If he left now – who knows when he’d come back? If he’d come back? “Logan!” she screamed as she heard the bike’s engine start with a roar. Sprinting out into the garage, she skidded to a stop, slapping her hands on the handlebars just before Logan was about to take off.

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ run out on me!” she yelled at him.

Logan stared in astonishment at Skye, at her hands gripping white-knuckled on the handlebars as she glared at him. Slowly, he lowered the bike back to its kickstand and shut off the engine.

“I have had it up to here with you avoiding me!” Skye snapped into the silence that fell.

“Skye, I’m no good for you,” Logan tried to tell her, but she shook her head and moved around the bike, grabbing onto his forearm with both of her small, slender hands.

“Logan, you told me you were game to try if I was. But you haven’t even given me a chance!”

He couldn’t meet her eyes, her imploring expression. “Couldn’t,” he said gruffly.

“ _Why?_ ” it was a desperate cry from the heart.

He took a deep breath. Blew out his cheeks and looked down at her. “Because I wouldn’t have been able to go slow,” he confessed. “I’d have wanted it all. Everything. I’d have pushed you and gone too fast, wanted too much…” he blinked in astonishment as she suddenly ducked under his forearm and seated herself sideways across his lap on the bike.

“What if I want everything too?” Skye asked softly, putting a hand on his chest. “What if I want to be yours, Logan?” She had her suspicions about his ‘animal instincts’, used them now. “What if I want to be your mate? If I want you to take me, right here and now…”

The rumble in his chest became a full-blown snarl, but she didn’t shy away. “I was born to be yours, Logan,” she told him, fearless, certain he would never hurt her. “ _Take me_.” And she stretched up and kissed him full on the mouth.

Logan’s control had already been hanging by a thin thread with her mere proximity. It snapped as her soft lips pressed on his, and with another snarl his arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her hard against him as he kissing her back, ravaging her mouth fiercely. Skye gave as good as she got, moaning into his mouth, nipping at his tongue, her fingers clenching in his tufted hair.

She was wearing a skirt, a cute little denim mini that showed far too much of her fabulous legs, and Logan gave serious thought to just setting her astride his lap right there on the bike and fucking her until she could barely walk. But he was still – just – coherent enough to think that he needed to do better than that, that Skye _deserved_ better.

So he stood up and swung his leg over the bike, carrying her easily, still with their mouths fused together, and strode towards the elevator.

“Where we goin’?” Skye mumbled dazedly as he stopped kissing her for a moment to push the up button.

“Bed, unless you’ve changed your mind between there and here, in which case I’m goin’ out to get very drunk.”

“No… no, bed sounds good to me,” and she tightened her hands in his hair and dragged him down to kiss her again.

They stumbled out into the hallway on the upper corridor and across to Logan’s room, which was fortunately at the end of the hall nearest the elevators, without coming across anyone. Logan shoved the door open, kicked it shut behind him and lowered Skye to the bed without letting go, coming down on top of her and still kissing her frantically.

She dragged at the collar of his leather jacket, trying desperately to get it off him, frantic to feel all that hot, powerful body against hers. Growling again, Logan reared back, shrugged it off, and ripped away the white vest he had on beneath.

“Oh fuck yes,” Skye whimpered, reaching out to run a hand down his thickly furred chest. Being kissed by and touching Logan was even better than she’d imagined, in the fantasies she’d been having nightly ever since meeting him. His eyes darkened as he stared down at her lying on his bed, his fingers twitched.

“Tear them off,” she encouraged, knowing he was thinking about it. “Rip them to shreds and _take_ me. Make it so I leave here wearing your shirt or nothing at all…”

He extended a gleaming blade from his fist. Just the one, and only part way, a few inches. Drew it with incredible delicacy down her front. Skye never felt a thing, but her clothes parted and fell away to her sides, leaving her body bare to his gaze.

“I’m not an animal,” Logan said, a slight teasing tone to his voice. “Just a lust-ridden man.” His claw retracted and he smirked slightly as he looked down at her.

“ _My_ man,” Skye said, shrugging out of the remnants of her clothes, tugging them from beneath her and throwing them off the bed. “Come here, you gorgeous creature.” She made grabby hands at him and he laughed deep in his chest.

“Why have I been holding out against you again?”

“I don’t know, you silly fool.” She smiled at him as he lowered himself over her, reaching her hands to stroke over his shoulders and thick biceps. “You’re so _built_ , Logan.” It was a happy sigh.

“Yours,” he gruffed, bending down to kiss at her throat, biting gently at her collarbone, “all yours.”

Skye arched her neck for him, letting her head fall back, sliding one hand up into his thick hair, and holding him close as his hot mouth ravaged her throat, licking and sucking, letting his teeth graze and nibble but never biting down until Skye whimpered, pressing her fingernails into his shoulder.

“Logan, _please_.”

He lifted his head to look at her, saw with visceral satisfaction the glazed look in her eyes, the way her kiss-swollen lips were parted, panting breaths making her chest heave. She had pretty little breasts, plump nipples pouting, just begging for his mouth. Logan slid down the bed without even thinking about it, heavy body pinning her slender hips down, his big hands curving around her breasts, plumping them lightly before his mouth closed on her nipple.

“Ohhh, yeah,” Skye wrapped her legs around his waist, ground herself frantically against the thick hardness she could feel through his jeans, “Logan, oh god, yes, please, ahhhh,” as he grazed her nipple with his teeth before moving lower and suckling a bruise into the lower slope of her breast. She shuddered and went suddenly soft beneath him, submissive, maddening Logan further. He tore at his belt impatiently, finally losing his temper and slicing through it with a claw before dragging his jeans down and kicking out of them. He hadn’t bothered with underwear – never did, so his cock was free at once, thick and fully erect already, blind eye seeking Skye’s tender flesh eagerly.

“You protected, Skye?” he growled against her stomach, kissing lower, scenting her arousal. He’d need to have a taste before he fucked her. Possessed her. _Mated_ her.

“Yes,” she whimpered. “ _Please_ , Logan. Please, I need you…” she trailed off into a low wail as his tongue dipped.

She was dripping, and she was _delicious_. Logan ate hungrily, every drop of slick he took onto his tongue replaced by many more as Skye shook under him, clutching at his thick, tufted hair, sobbing his name again and again as her slight body arched with ecstasy. The walls of his stark room rang with her cries, and he spared a moment to wonder if the walls were soundproof – and to selfishly not care if they weren’t, because that way everyone in the mansion would know that _his_ mate was very well satisfied in his bed.

Skye gasped his name once again as she started to come down, her hand fluttering from his hair down to his shoulders as he kissed gently back up over her stomach, his eyes clear as they looked up at her. Logan poised above her, hands on either side of her body… and she said;

“Wait.”

“What?” he blinked down at her, stunned. “You want me to stop – to get a condom…?”

“No! No – I want you to let me turn over.” She gazed up at him from soft dark brown eyes, pleading.

“ _Skye_ ,” it was a low, rasping sound. The very thought – pushed him too far outside of humanity.

“ _Please_.”

Logan had to close his eyes. But how could he possibly say no, deny both of them what it seemed she wanted as desperately as he did? “I’ll bond with you. I won’t be able to stop myself…”

“Good.”

There were no words in the growl he let out this time, but he moved back, a little, enough for Skye to wriggle over to her stomach and then get to her hands and knees before reaching out and putting her hands on the plain wooden headboard of Logan’s bed.

He had to keep his eyes closed, because the sight of her _presenting_ for him, seeing the words where he _knew_ they’d be on her ass, would have driven him quite mad. He heard her skin rasp lightly on the timber, though, could picture in his mind’s eye all too well what she was doing. Blindly Logan reached out, settled his hands on Skye’s hips, caressing slowly over her buttocks. She moaned and pushed back against him, gasping out his name.

“ _Logan_ ,” Skye wailed again as he didn’t move, just rubbed his huge hands over her ass again. Looking back at him over her shoulder, she saw that his eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted as his huge chest heaved with deep, slow breaths. “ _Please_ ,” she begged frantically. She _ached_ , desperate for him in a way she’d never imagined, needed to feel him inside her, _filling_ her. “ _Fuck_ me!” It was a shout, demanding, and she hooked her foot around the inside of his thigh, running it up until her toes brushed his thickly swollen balls.

Logan _roared_ , his eyes snapping open as he lunged forward, one huge hand grasping a handful of Skye’s hair, arching her back up as he pushed against her. The head of his cock slid down between her legs, rubbed over her soaked clit, and she whined submissively, her eyes rolling back in her head with pleasure.

“You want rough?” Logan growled in Skye’s ear, bending over her, biting at her shoulder sharply.

“Yes,” she whimpered, trying to tilt her hips, take him inside her. “Yes, fuck me hard, rough, _take_ me, oh _hnnnnngghhh_!” as his teeth met in the soft flesh of her neck, at the same moment he grasped his cock and pushed the tip into her soft, slick passage.

He wasn’t biting deep enough to draw blood, but there would definitely be one hell of a bruise, high enough on her neck that she wouldn’t be able to cover it without a ton of makeup or a scarf around her throat. The thought alone was enough to push Skye close to the edge again, make her shudder as Logan pushed slowly deeper, his cock hot and thick and _so hard_ inside her. She whimpered, pushing her hips back against him eagerly, her nails scoring the timber headboard.

Logan growled again, releasing his bite on her neck as his cock was finally fully sheathed inside her, wrapping one strong arm around her ribs, the other sliding down in front of her, finding her clit and rubbing hard as he started to move. As he pulled her back against him, their marks met, pressing more firmly together with each deep, penetrating thrust.

Skye _screamed_ with pleasure as the orgasm poured through her; Logan snarled against as she tightened around him, slowed his thrusts for a few moments until her internal muscles relaxed, and then resumed, faster and harder than ever.

He was _heavy_ , his weight pushing down on Skye’s back, his arm holding her tightly, his lips and teeth worrying at the back of her neck as he snarled and growled, slamming roughly into her.

It was the best thing that Skye had ever experienced. Dizzy with pleasure, she gave herself completely over to Logan’s passionate lovemaking, opened herself up to his possession. And as she did, as she relaxed and accepted his physical dominance over her, he gentled his thrusts, began to kiss her neck and shoulder softly, whispering low words of praise against her skin.

“So perfect. So beautiful. Too good for me, my lovely Skye…”

“Yours, Logan, yours, please, I want to be _yours_!” she cried out eagerly, before letting out a high, urgent shriek as his thick fingers scissored over her clit again.

“Skye,” Logan rumbled deeply, his eyes closing with bliss as he pressed deep into Skye, felt their soulmarks touch yet again. This time he didn’t pull back, kept the marks in contact by holding her tightly against him and just grinding his hips in a small circle, his cock shifting inside her.

“Oh God yes, _yes_!” Delirious with pleasure as the bond formed between them, Skye came again, clamping down hard on Logan. He groaned deep in his chest, pulsing thickly inside her, quite unable to hold out even if he’d wanted to.

Skye would have collapsed, but for Logan’s powerful arms holding her up. He held her against him for a long time, his cheek against her shoulder, their marks in contact, the bond an almost tangible thing between them as they wonderingly explored their new link.

At long last he eased her gently down to the bed, lay down beside her and gathered her into his arms. She sighed contentedly, laying her head on his broad chest.

“Frustrating idiot,” she mumbled fondly. “Have you any idea how mad you were driving me?”

“I do now,” Logan admitted, his hand stroking gently in a broad sweep from her hair to the small of her back, his fingers brushing lightly over her soulmark there. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I – thought it was just me.”

“Not just you.” Skye trailed her fingers lightly over his chest, propped her chin on her hand to meet his eyes. “Did you really think you could let me go off with another man? That I _would_ do that, in front of my soulmate, no less?” Her tone was disbelieving.

Logan shifted his massive shoulders uncomfortably. “Yeah, I realised it was a stupid plan right about the moment I saw Remy smile at you,” he mumbled sheepishly.

Skye smirked. “Your face was a picture when you came stalking across the room like that,” she confided.

“Wait,” his eyes narrowed. Her smirk widened. “You _deliberately_ made me jealous!” Logan reared upright, spilling Skye back onto the bed as she began to laugh.

“I had to do something!” Skye protested through her giggles as Logan rolled over onto her, pinning her down and doing his best to frown menacingly, though the effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact that he couldn’t stop smiling. “You were driving me mad, all broody and gorgeous and avoiding me.” Her slim arms came up, linked around his neck, and she pulled him down for a slow, lingering kiss.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Skye whispered when their lips finally parted.

“Mind what?” Logan said dazedly.

“Oh good.” She smiled and pulled him back down for another kiss.

 

French translations (horrible grammar corrected by stereden – all mistakes are mine!)

 _Vraiment? –_ Really?

 _Pardonne-moi, mon ami –_ excuse me, my friend

 _J’ignorai que cette belle jeune dame était ton âme soeur. Mais tu ferais bien de la revendiquer, avant que quelqu'un d'autre ne le fasse_ – I didn’t know this lovely young lady was your soulmate. But you’d better claim her, before someone else does.

 _De rien_ – it’s nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I’m thinking that Jean, probably thoroughly sick of the sexual tension, probably put the idea into Skye’s head, actually! Plus it helped her win her bet…**
> 
>  
> 
> **Next up will be**  
>  **Steve/Bucky/Sif, as voted for by Yasmania, jagdoc09, BetsBets, theLadyCheshire, TheVorpalQueen, Better_than_Binns, Raveninflight, 1noel11, Val9, Daylights, nyxdtd, EllaMichelle, Kat, Emily, MsLane19, paksiegurlie, readrider, Prudii_Aden, yapper444, tanksbane, sansalayne, Selene Aduial, SarahJaneDoctor, Caroline, thefrogg, r_blok, Spitfire303, nyxdtd, Jocasta Silver, solara1357 and Cateyes1401.**


	19. Steve/Bucky/Sif

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Follows on from[](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/6842057>Chapter%2052,%20<em>I%20Like%20The%20Way%20You%20Think</a></em></strong></p>)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Voted for by Yasmania, jagdoc09, BetsBets, theLadyCheshire, TheVorpalQueen, Better_than_Binns, Raveninflight, 1noel11, Val9, Daylights, nyxdtd, EllaMichelle, Kat, Emily, MsLane19, paksiegurlie, readrider, Prudii_Aden, yapper444, tanksbane, sansalayne, Selene Aduial, SarahJaneDoctor, Caroline, thefrogg, r_blok, Spitfire303, nyxdtd, Jocasta Silver, solara1357 and Cateyes1401.**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/bucky_zpsw9sx54ay.jpg.html)[](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/Chris-Evans_zpsm8u664rm.jpg.html)

Sif disappeared at the end of the battle, and Thor told Steve and Bucky in far too cheerful tones that she’d been taken back to Asgard by Heimdall the Guardian. Her brother, apparently, which didn’t make either of them feel particularly hopeful that they’d see her again any time soon.

Back at base, they showered off the gunk and changed into shorts and T-shirts, headed for their kitchen and started assembling a meal, knowing they’d both need to refuel. They were just finishing massive helpings of pasta when someone knocked at their apartment door.

“I got it,” Steve, a little closer, waved at Bucky to sit down, headed over to the door. Opened it to reveal Sif, clad in a glorious silver gown pinned up over one shoulder, her hair rippling down in a silky dark tumble across the other.

“Oh,” was about all he could say as she smiled at him, stepped into the room and pushed the door shut behind her.

“Good eve to you, my consort,” she said brightly, reached up and hooked a hand behind his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Steve was so startled he didn’t resist in the slightest, though considering the strength of her he suspected that it wouldn’t have done him any good if she had. Her mouth was warm and soft under his, sweet-tasting and oh so tempting… a groan rose in his throat before he could stop it, and Sif released him, laughing.

“You are eager, my consort.”

Steve blushed, and Bucky laughed, getting up from the table. “You have no idea, Sif.”

She smiled again, that bold, bright smile, walking across the room to Bucky, reaching up to kiss him too, but Bucky was very much more prepared, arms sliding around Sif’s waist and bending her back over his arm to kiss her thoroughly. Her throaty laugh sounded again as Bucky let her up. “Well, I am glad that you are both pleased to see me. I am more than eager to be with you, also. I apologise that I had to return to Asgard after the battle, but it had already been arranged. And then my brother wished to speak with me…”

Steve cast a nervous glance at the ceiling, wondering if Heimdall could see them indoors. “Your brother, er, yeah…”

Sif smiled at him. “Do not fear, Steven. He cannot see me if I do not wish it, nor those with me. Besides, he already has a high opinion of you both, told me that he is glad that I have found such worthy warriors as the mates of my soul.”

Even Bucky relaxed at that, his posture loosening minutely. “That’s good,” he murmured.

Sif glanced up at him. “You will meet him soon enough. Ah,” as she saw their bemused expressions. “You do not have the same traditions here on Midgard regarding the meeting of bondmates?”

“I don’t think there are any specific traditions,” Steve answered for both of them. “Not that we’d feel obliged to follow, anyway?”

“Well, on Asgard, traditionally the bondmates spend seven days and nights secluded in each others’ company. On the eighth day, their families will host a celebration for them, where the union is formalised. Heimdall is very much looking forward to it. As are my friends – Volstagg is already planning a feast.”

“Seven days and nights,” Steve said blankly.

“Indeed! Thor has already advised the other Avengers that we must not be disturbed during this time.” She cocked her head, considering the substantial remains of their meal on the table. “Though I suppose we will require sustenance.”

Steve was still stuck on the _seven days and nights_. What were they supposed to do for all that time? He caught Bucky’s wickedly raised eyebrow, blushed fiercely. Well, he could guess what they were supposed to do for _some_ of it. But surely even Asgardian stamina wasn’t that extreme?

It appeared that they were about to find out. Sif walked towards the door of their bedroom, one hand going up to the brooch fastening her gown at her shoulder. “Well,” she glanced seductively back over her shoulder at them, “what are you waiting for?”

The silvery gown fell to the floor in a slither of fabric, revealing that she wore absolutely nothing beneath it.

Steve and Bucky jammed shoulders in the doorway bolting after her. Sif, already reclining on the bed, collapsed in gales of merry laughter.

“Punk!”

“Jerk!”

Reduced to shoving at each other like unruly kids, they fell into the room and stumbled to the foot of the bed, gazing down at the goddess awaiting them there, a glorious vision of creamy skin and rippling dark hair, her silver-grey eyes laughing up at them.

“Dear Lord, thank You for Your blessings,” Steve said reverently. Bucky didn’t bother to stop to give thanks. Just strode forward, yanking his shirt off over his head and discarding it as he knelt on the bed at Sif’s feet.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever been privileged to lay eyes on,” he said deeply, and Sif laughed delightedly as he scooped her foot up in his metal hand and lavished kisses on it.

“This is a most intriguing mechanism,” her other foot’s toes danced lightly up his arm. “Exceptional, for human work. On Asgard, we could grow you a new arm, though. If you wished it.”

“They can do that here,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “Doctor Cho’s figured out the technology – but I said no. I’m used to it, now.”

Her slim foot rested on his shoulder as she looked deeply into his eyes. “You have embraced yourself,” she said softly. “A courageous warrior indeed.” Her hands lifted, beckoned to him. “Come claim your reward, my warrior.”

Steve stared, rapt, as Bucky crawled up the bed, kissing slowly up the inside of Sif’s leg, hooking it over his shoulder as he went, spreading her thighs. Her pubic hair was blonde, silky, and he looked at it for a moment and then her long dark hair with a puzzled expression.

“A long tale,” Sif said with a wry smile, “one of Loki’s pranks, I fear.”

Bucky smiled. “We call it ‘the curtains don’t match the carpet’ here.”

Steve snorted with laughter, and Sif looked up at him and smiled. “Are you not joining us, dear captain? Or,” her eyelids half-closed and she let out a little sigh of pleasure as Bucky’s fingers slid into the silky blonde curls, “do you only like to watch?”

“Yes,” Steve said dazedly, staring at the amazing picture they made, like some glorious work of art spread out on his bed, Sif’s back arching, her hips beginning to roll as Bucky pushed one long finger slowly into her. “Both. Watch and touch. I want to draw you…”

Bucky laughed huskily. “Later, punk. Right now there’s a lady needs pleasurin’.”

“Yes,” Sif’s hands slid up her sides, curved around her breasts, flicking at her nipples lightly with her fingertips. “Come, dear captain. Come to me.”

She was like some magnificent pagan offering, and in that moment Steve knew exactly why humans had once worshipped Asgardians as gods. And he truly didn’t care. Hastily yanking his clothes off and throwing them aside, he knelt on the bed beside her, bent his head to nurse at the perfect, cherry-tipped breasts she offered for his mouth.

Sif sighed with pleasure as Steve’s hot mouth suckled on her nipple and Bucky’s fingers worked slowly between her legs, coaxing the moisture that was more than ready to flow at his urging. Pressing her heel on his back, she urged him closer, and he moved up, kneeling between her thighs, his hand still stroking as his mouth sought her other breast.

One brunette head and one blond worked at her nipples, suckled them in perfect synchronisation, and then Steve’s hand moved down across her hard, flat stomach as well, delved between her legs. His fingers were as long and deft as Bucky’s, but a little thicker, and she yelped a little as one pushed into her pussy right alongside his friend’s.

Bucky laughed against Sif’s breast, lifted his head. “Thought you were keen to take us both, Sif?”

She couldn’t speak as Steve added another finger. Could only moan and run her fingers into their hair, clutch them both to her as her body shook with the first impending climax. Sensing it, her soulmates worked her harder, biting at her nipples, tugging with their teeth, fingers thrusting inside her until she howled wordlessly and clenched around them.

“Get a condom,” Bucky gasped to Steve, “wanna see you fuck her.”

“No,” Sif moaned, “no, there must be nothing between us!”

Steve hesitated. “Sif, I can’t carry disease, but my sperm is extremely motile…”

“I would carry your child,” her grey eyes flicked open, looked directly at him. “For both of you. A thousand years my womb has lain fallow and empty. Either or both of you could be taken from me at any moment, considering the dangers in our lives, and yours are but a fleeting instant compared to Asgardian lifespans. I would give you both every moment with your children that I am able.”

They were both silenced, stunned, staring at her. She only gazed back at them, looking from one to the other, her strong fingers still caressing their hair. “Part of my preparations for this night included spells of fertility,” she told them softly. “Give me your seed, my loves, let me carry your children safe in my womb. I have filled my life with the arts of war, and loved every moment, but I have also envied my sisters, the love of children given unconditionally that only a parent can know. Share with me that, I beg of you.”

Sif’s voice was soft, but every word was delivered with an utter certainty, and neither Steve nor Bucky could muster any argument. Denial of such a fervent, heartfelt plea was unthinkable, and so Bucky moved over silently, letting Steve settle between Sif’s thighs.

“I don’t think I could ever deny you anything, least of all that,” Steve told her. She smiled up at him.

“Deny me something and I will fight you to win it.”

Bucky burst out laughing at that. “Oh God, Sif, you’re perfect.”

“I am glad to hear you say so.” Her grin was impish as her legs tightened powerfully around Steve. “I should be disappointed if you thought me less, because I think you are both magnificent. Glorious. _Aaahhh_ ,” Steve’s thick, heavy cock was slowly sliding inside her, and Sif’s back bowed. Bucky leaned in to kiss her and she grabbed the back of his neck, holding him close and moaning into his mouth as Steve pressed deeper still.

“So good,” Steve husked, fists tightening in the sheets, the fabric ripping under his hands. None of them cared in the slightest, Sif’s legs tightening around his waist to pull him fully inside her. His swollen balls pressed against her buttocks as she tilted her hips up and they both groaned.

“So fucking beautiful,” Bucky’s head turned to look down between them, at Steve’s cock pumping slowly in and out of Sif as he began to move, thrusting in a slow, steady rhythm until she cried out with frustration, her own fingers punching deep into the mattress as she spread them on the bed, clawing frantically.

“I got you,” Bucky moved around, lifting Sif and laying her across his lap, taking her hands in his. He’d wrestled with Thor and knew that even his flesh hand was up to the kind of punishment an Asgardian could deal out.

“Yes, ah, yes,” Sif clung to his wrists like a lifeline, her body braced against his as Steve began to move faster, slamming deep, his breath coming quicker. “Steven, oh, yes!”

Her breath began coming in little needy gasps, and Steve could feel her shudder around him. He glanced up at her, at Bucky, just in time to see Sif pull away from Bucky's hold. Her hands snapped up to his shoulders and he found himself rolled as easily as he might pick up a feather, until the goddess was atop him.

"...well, fuck," Bucky murmured, somewhere between lust and awe.

“More,” Sif demanded lustily, “give me all of it, Steven!”

It was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him, Sif riding him like a buckin’ bronc, the impossibly strong muscles in her slender thighs untiring. Bucky lay back on the pillows and stared hungrily, hand working his own cock until Sif brushed it aside and wrapped her own fingers about the base.

“Do not dare spill your seed outside my body,” she commanded him, and Bucky nodded submissively, his lips parted as he gazed at Sif, at her high breasts bouncing as she lifted and lowered herself rapidly on Steve’s cock.

Steve was biting hard on his lower lip, and Bucky knew exactly why - he was fighting not to unleash a stream of curses for fear he would shock Sif.

“She won’t care, Stevie,” he urged, “she’s a soldier who’s heard a thousand times worse, let it out.”

Sif’s laugh was throaty as she arched back, put her free hand behind her and cupped Steve’s balls in it, rolling them firmly between her fingers. “Indeed, I have heard profanities in a thousand languages, on a hundred worlds. Speak, Steven. Tell me how I make you feel.” She added a sharp little twist to her hips as she plunged down, and the dam broke for Steve.

Bucky would have said something admiring about Steve’s ability to swear in half a dozen languages for a minute straight without pausing for breath, but he couldn’t catch a breath himself as Sif’s fingers tightened around him, jacking his cock hard in time to her movements on Steve.

“There,” Sif crooned to Steve as she felt him swell and jerk inside her, his hands clamping powerfully on her hips, holding her down onto him. “There, my captain, give it to me, give me all you have, I will take it. Mmmm,” her eyes closed with bliss as heat flooded deep within her. Her grip on Bucky’s cock loosened and he took the opportunity to pull her hand off, sliding lower in the bed beside Steve.

“Me too,” he begged shamelessly, “fuck me too, please, Sif, God, you’re so fucking beautiful like that,” as she opened her silver-grey eyes and smiled, a sated, catlike smirk.

“You are greedy, my warrior,” she smiled down at him, dismounted from Steve in an easy, fluid movement and knelt over Bucky’s thighs. “Tell me of your desires,” bending forward, her long hair tumbling over his chest, she slowly traced the tip of her tongue over one small male nipple until it hardened.

“What about yours?” Bucky tried to counter, reaching up to touch her breasts, but to his shock she grabbed his wrists and pulled them up, holding them together above his head, her strength a match even for his metal arm.

“Mine are _well_ served,” Sif purred, rolling her hips in a slow circle. With each pass, the tip of Bucky’s cock stroked over her clit, her juices and Steve’s seed leaking out of her coating him slickly. “Well served indeed. So, I say again, warrior, tell me of your desires.” Her voice hardened, and he was reminded that she commanded troops in Asgard’s armies regularly. He shuddered.

Steve, lying beside them still gasping for breath, rolled his head to the side and grinned. “He don’t want to tell you, Sif.”

“Indeed?” she ground down deliberately, rubbing along Bucky’s length before lifting off again, “then I shall discover them for myself. There is nothing that you can want that would shame you in my eyes, Bucky,” her voice softened and she leant down, putting her cheek against his to whisper in his ear. “I want only to make you happy. To give you what you need.”

Bucky moaned breathlessly, his hips jerking at her gentle, loving promise. “Please,” he choked out, “Stevie - want Stevie to hold me down. Can’t fight him. And then watch you, watch you pleasure yourself on my cock. Use it until you come.”

“A fine plan, my lover,” Sif approved, looked at Steve. “Are you ready to assist, Steven?”

“Hell yeah,” Steve agreed hoarsely. It was so hot, watching Sif dominate Bucky so effortlessly, coax him into a confession that would have taken Steve hours if he got it at all. She sat up, releasing Bucky’s wrists, stroked her fingers down his chest, dug short fingernails into his belly, jerking a desperate cry from Bucky’s mouth.

“Then hold him down, so that I may pleasure myself,” Sif ordered.

Bucky hadn’t moved his hands when Sif let go, so it was easy for Steve to roll to his front and lean up on his elbows, pressing one forearm across Bucky’s wrists and the other across his chest. Bucky moaned, shifted briefly against Steve’s grip and then settled, smiling, his eyelids drifting down to half-closed.

“That’s it,” he whispered softly. “Please, Sif.”

“I have you, my warrior,” she replied gently, her hand slipping down to wrap around his flushed, swollen cock, lift it fully erect. “We shall keep you safe, Steven and I. Give you everything you need. Always.” Teasingly, she rubbed the tip of his cock over her clit a time or two before lowering her hips, taking it just inside her entrance. “There, is that what you need?”

Bucky was biting his lower lips, his breath coming in quick little huffs through his nose. Leaning in, Steve kissed him. “Let it out,” he said quietly. “It’s all right, Buck. Sif gets it, she really does.”

“Ride me!” Bucky shouted suddenly, “ride me, fuck me, _use_ me, drain every last drop - just don’t hurt me,” his voice lowered as Sif moved, easing down on him, taking him deep and sitting still for a moment, pressed all the way down on his groin.

“I will never hurt you, my warrior,” she promised him. “Only look. See yourself in me, see what you give me.”

Steve moved his forearm down so that Bucky could lift his head and see, see his cock disappearing into Sif’s nest of golden curls, watch as she lifted her hands to her breasts, playing with her nipples again.

“You feel good inside me,” Sif praised huskily, “thick and hard, a fine tool to bring me pleasure. Do you want to see me touch myself?”

“Oh Christ yes,” Bucky croaked, staring avidly as both slender hands traced down her stomach, the fingers of one opening and spreading herself before one fingertip pressed delicately against her pinkly swollen, pulsing clit.

Sif was so hot inside, internal muscles clenching incredibly hard on Bucky’s cock. He fought to keep his eyes open against the sensual lassitude invading his muscles, wanting to watch her, to see her face as she used his body to pleasure herself. Her lips were slightly parted, her skin stretched tight over high cheekbones as her breathing sped up.

“Please,” Bucky begged shamelessly, “I want to see you come.”

Sif smiled, looking down at him, licking her lips. “Do you? Have you earned that pleasure?”

Bucky’s hips jerked helplessly, his cock hardening still further. “Oh God, let me earn it, I’ll do anything.”

“I know,” Sif answered, her hips rocking faster, the movement pushing her fingers, jammed between their groins as they were, in faster, rougher circles over her clit. “You have been so good for me, Bucky, so gooood.” Her voice broke on a moan, her hand suddenly tremoring as her head fell back.

Incredibly powerful muscles suddenly constricted around Bucky and he surged upwards with a shout, Steve barely hanging onto him as he jacknifed upright, staring greedily at Sif’s face as her mouth formed an O. She smiled beatifically at him when her eyes opened again, murmuring, “You may finish now, Bucky,” and without even needing to move, he did exactly as she ordered, surging and spurting inside her in what he would afterwards call the best orgasm of his life.

“Good. So good, Bucky, you were so obedient for me,” she leaned down over him, stroking his hair as he jerked and shuddered, low wordless cries filling the air as both Sif and Steve held onto him, _anchoring_ him.

“Oh God,” he almost sobbed, “ohgodohgodohgod.”

“Sshh,” two pairs of hands stroked him, soothed him, and Sif never moved from atop him, holding him tight inside her body, draining him of every last drop until he lay back against Steve, utterly limp, every muscle relaxed.

She was leaning on his chest when Bucky finally felt able to open his eyes, her silver-grey eyes soft and shining as she smiled at him.

“Magnificent,” Sif said, her voice low and passionate, and she kissed him.

Bucky smiled up at her when she pulled back, his voice a little shaky as he said, “It’s not me who’s the magnificent one.”

Steve, warm and solid beneath him, laughed quietly. “Both of you. Incredible.” His arms were long enough to reach around Bucky and hug Sif, too, and she laughed, snuggling into both of them.

“It has been a long, long wait,” she said quietly after a moment, “but I would have waited another thousand years for you, the mates of my heart.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _(Follow-up - Sif gives birth to twin girls, one each of Steve and Bucky’s. One of them has golden hair and blue eyes and is the living image of her distant relative, Frigga. Odin can never say no to her, so one day when she tells him that she needs two of the Apples of Idunn for ‘her papas’ so that they can stay with her and her sister and Mama for ever, Odin meekly hands them over.)_
> 
> _And in case you were wondering about Sif’s blondeness Down Under - there’s a story that she once had long golden hair that was the envy of all who saw it. Loki cut it off for a prank and it grew back dark._
> 
> **Next up is Rumlow/Gambit/Darcy, which got a RIDICULOUS number of votes to catapult it to the top of the list (oh God, I hope you guys won’t be disappointed). Voters were Colton45, SnowNox554, X-Random-X, iceque5784, keepfacepalm, general zargon, 1noel11, SMC9, phoenix_173, DragonCurse4, MCUFan34, hopelesslygeeky, queenofthebrokenhearts, fiction reading chick, stephkae, Lvngd, Greennonmonster, staringatthesea, Princess PrettyPants, Yasmania, Elliesmeow, Sporks and Knives, cinnilla, DrAnime203, minah.islam, nobutsiruslywhat, Holieshka, krazykat00, paksiegurlie, Casper22, Titzi, Jade01, coffeeandtv, artisticvirtuoso, Spitfire303, TheLittleSwan, Narshalla, Better_With_Three, AndromedaAthena, robina852, Notashamed, Sarra Torrens, inugirl2469, Chey, ecliptic.nebulae, Kitrazzle, Cateyes1401, Artemis_Day, Flutezrox, SoupShue, coffeeandtv, Avengersfan22, Alijah, Siren Alecto, rainedoodle, tessafiction12, nyxdtd, Sarra Torrens, wicked17writer, Lula, Madd_Chatter and Twird96!**
> 
> **Check out the voting list in the next chapter, and then come BACK to this chapter to leave me a comment to vote, please! You CANNOT vote for the same ship more than once. I don’t have time to respond to let you know if you have, so please check CAREFULLY if your name is already down against the ship you want to see!**


	20. Rumlow/Gambit/Darcy smut (and plot)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Continued on from the Crackship Armada Part 2,[Chapter 16, A Score To Settle](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4167942/chapters/10504059), and [Chapter 17, Not Really Supervillains](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4167942/chapters/10518951)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Voted for by Colton45, SnowNox554, X-Random-X, iceque5784, keepfacepalm, general zargon, 1noel11, SMC9, phoenix_173, DragonCurse4, MCUFan34, hopelesslygeeky, queenofthebrokenhearts, fiction reading chick, stephkae, Lvngd, Greennonmonster, staringatthesea, Princess PrettyPants, Yasmania, Elliesmeow, Sporks and Knives, cinnilla, DrAnime203, minah.islam, nobutsiruslywhat, Holieshka, krazykat00, paksiegurlie, Casper22, Titzi, Jade01, coffeeandtv, artisticvirtuoso, Spitfire303, TheLittleSwan, Narshalla, Better_With_Three, AndromedaAthena, robina852, Notashamed, Sarra Torrens, inugirl2469, Chey, ecliptic.nebulae, Kitrazzle, Cateyes1401, Artemis_Day, Flutezrox, SoupShue, coffeeandtv, Avengersfan22, Alijah, Siren Alecto, rainedoodle, tessafiction12, nyxdtd, wicked17writer, Lula, Madd_Chatter and Twird96!**
> 
>  
> 
> **First of all in this chapter I'll cover the Remy/Brock smut scene, and then in the middle you'll find a small summary section covering some events between the end of the triad Short and the second part. This really would make an awesome longer story, and there’s some folks from my Tumblr chat page (ozhawkauthor.chatango.com) taking a look at some ‘heist’ scenes to put into it, so there may be more one day soon. Stay tuned :)**
> 
>   **This, incidentally, is the longest of these smut continuations so far at over 8,500 words. Hope you enjoy and as always I’d love to hear what you think!**

 

**If you are reading this on a computer, you should find that you can hover your mouse over the italic words where Remy speaks French and a little pop-up translation box will appear :)**

**Unfortunately, I can't figure out how to make this work on phone or tablet, so you'll have to scroll to the end for a list of translations for those. Sorry!**

 

"They say that revenge is a dish best served cold," Remy mused as he and Brock exited the house, "but the warm blood of the man who sold you to your enemy is very satisfying, too."

Brock smiled over at him. "Agreed." He paused then, looking at the car in the driveway. "Well, now. That would make a suitable recompense for our annoyance this evening, wouldn't it? Know anyone who could fence it for us?"

Remy grinned, looking at the gleaming black Lamborghini. " _Certainement_."

"Good," Brock opened his hand to show the keys he'd scooped up from the hall table on his way past. "I was plannin' to steal it anyway."

" _Je t'adore_ ," Remy said happily, reaching for the keys.

"Oh no. I'm driving."

"Are you, indeed?" Remy grinned wickedly. "Do you drive well when distracted?"

"I've been trained to perform all sorts of extremely complex tasks under pressure," Brock said haughtily.

It wasn't until they were zooming away from the house that he realised what a mistake he'd just made. Remy just leaned on over and unzipped his pants, dextrous fingers sliding down inside them.

"Ah, fuck," Brock groaned as Remy's hand wrapped around his cock, a few firm strokes bringing him leaping to attention almost instantly. It was hard to keep his attention on the road, especially as the Cajun kept on working him, thumb rubbing over his slit, smearing pre-come down around the broad head of his cock.

"We certainly shall, _mon amour_ ," Remy agreed deeply. He kept working Brock, slow, teasing strokes that wound him tighter and tighter until finally Brock could take no more. They were a safe distance away by this time, out of the town and into the countryside.

"I'm so gettin' you back for this, LeBeau," Brock growled, turning the wheel. The expensive car snarled down the driveway of the small safehouse and he drove it around the back and parked it out of sight of the road. Before he'd engaged the park brake, though, Remy had removed his seatbelt and leaned down, his mouth opening as he licked hotly at the tip of Brock's aching arousal.

"Oh, Jesus," Brock wheezed.

Remy was too busy sliding his mouth down over Brock's dick to reply, but he hummed an amused sound of agreement, rolling his eyes up to look at Brock's face, twisting agilely around - _how did he even do that_ , Brock wondered hazily, with that long body of his - to lay his head in Brock's lap, long-fingered hand tugging and stroking at the base of his cock while Remy sucked and licked around the tip.

Remy's eyes were extremely odd, Brock registered hazily; the iris seemed to be blacker than the pupil, which glinted faintly coppery, like flames deep inside. But then LeBeau was a known Gifted... energy suddenly tickled through him, starting at his balls and rippling through his whole body.

Remy made an approving sound as Brock cried out with pleasure, hips jolting upwards; he deliberately hadn't taken him in deep yet, guessing this might happen when he gave Brock a tiny bit of his power. He sucked eagerly on Brock's cock as it swelled in his mouth, hot salty spurts of semen hitting the back of his throat.

"Christ," Brock's head fell back against the thickly padded leather seat. " _Remy_."

"I like the way you say my name, Brock," Remy murmured, in between licks of Brock's softening cock.

A broad hand moved to slowly touch his head, stroke through his long hair. They gazed at each other for a long moment before Brock's fingers tightened and he tugged gently, pulling Remy up until he could kiss the other man, passionate heat building between them as they licked and nipped at each other's lips. Remy moaned as Brock pulled lightly on his hair again, tilting his head back to kiss down the strong line of his neck before biting at his collarbone. His other hand slid down Remy's front where the Cajun half-lay across his lap, pushing down the zip of his jacket, sliding beneath to flick open the buttons of his shirt.

Brock's fingers were hard, callused, firm against Remy's chest, finding his nipples to pinch and tease at them until Remy was squirming, flushed with desire, his head still pulled back, his throat exposed.

"Is this a place where we can take this inside, _mon coeur_?" Remy asked throatily, "or are we going to further defile _le cafard’s_ car?"

"Might decrease the value if we deliver it to your fence with cum all over the seats," Brock mused, "perhaps you should have thought of that before you decided to blow me in it, hmm?"

"I swallowed, thank you very much, there is no mess," Remy said indignantly, gasped as Brock tugged a little harder on his hair.

"Yet," Brock whispered, biting lightly at his throat, running his free hand down Remy's chest, over his flat stomach, over his belt buckle to palm the thick, hard bulge in his soulmate's pants. And then he let go, reaching for the door handle, pushing up the Lamborghini's gull-wing door. "Come on. Inside. There's a bed."

"Good," Remy could barely walk as he staggered after Brock. "We're going to need one." He couldn't stop staring at his soulmate's ass as Brock led the way inside after casually zipping up his fly. _Damn_ but Rumlow had a nice ass. Brock was two or three inches shorter than Remy, but thick with muscle. Remy couldn't wait to see all that smooth olive skin exposed.

He didn't have long to wait, anyway. Brock led them straight to the bedroom and started taking off his clothes, eyes on Remy as he tossed them carelessly aside. Remy felt like a clumsy kid again as he hastily stripped off his own things, staring all the while.

"You're fuckin' hot," Brock murmured, dropping his hand to his cock, hardening again already with eager anticipation.

"You too," Remy returned, shoving his pants down and off and straightening up, letting Brock get a good look at his own body, standing unselfconscious and proud.

"Sometime we're going to have a conversation about how you have to be older than me but look about twenty years younger," Brock said, "but not right now." His eyes raked approvingly down the other man's body; tall and leanly muscled, Remy was a gorgeous specimen of manhood, his cock thick and curving upwards, flushed deeply red with his arousal. Brock couldn't decide what he wanted first, to fuck into that pert, youthful ass, see Remy spread flushed and sweating beneath him as Brock took his pleasure, or to take that delicious-looking cock into his mouth and hear the other man scream…

Remy solved the conundrum for him by opening the drawer in the nightstand and pulling out a bottle of lube. "I want you, _mon coeur_ ," he said, with a simple, direct honesty. "Come take me." And he crawled onto the bed, putting his feet flat on the mattress and spreading his knees, popping the cap onto the lube and pouring some onto his fingers, trickling it over his balls as he reached down to finger himself open.

"Nnghh," Brock said eloquently, his eyes glued to Remy's fingers as the Cajun pushed them deep. That was - that was the hottest thing Brock Rumlow had _ever_ seen, no question, his soulmate spread out on the bed waiting for him. His cock was already swollen again after the blowjob, tingling with energy, which felt odd, and again Brock realised that he had a lot of questions for LeBeau.

Though not right now. Not with Remy gazing at him, lips parted and wet. Brock moved forward, knelt on the bed and picked up the lube.

"Mm," Remy moaned as Brock's slick hand curled around his cock, tightening hard until Remy surged up into his hand, gasping.

"I think you're a bit of an exhibitionist," Brock said teasingly, moving his hand in a long sharp stroke up and down.

" _Seulement pour toi, mon coeur, oh, mon Dieu_..."

"Good thing I speak French, eh?"

" _C'est la langue d'amour_ ," Remy grinned at him, eyes fever bright, as Brock pulled his fingers away from his ass. "Please, Brock. Do it, want it so much..."

Not at all inclined to resist, Brock lifted Remy's ankle to his shoulder and leaned in, pressing the broad head of his cock to Remy's puckered hole. "Like getting fucked, do you?"

"Love it, oh yes," Remy panted as Brock breached him. Brock wrapped a hand around Remy's cock, squeezing again as he pushed slowly deeper. He'd slicked his cock up as well as his hand, wasn't fighting friction, but Remy was firm and tight, squeezing hard on him as a torrent of French poured from his lips and his cock swelled in Brock's hand.

"Not yet you don't," Brock squeezed hard around the base, grinned at Remy's strangled, frustrated shout.

“ _Va te faire enculer!_!”

“It’s you that’s getting fucked, sweetheart,” Brock couldn’t help the deep groan that escaped him as he pushed deep, Remy’s ass clenching on him tightly.

“Brock,” Remy groaned his name, looking up at him, the pupils of his eyes flaring fiery orange. “Please.”

They both had their soulmarks on their calves, touching, entwined as they were, but there was only a low-level buzz there, nothing more. Not without their third. The bond couldn’t complete without her, whoever she was. Brock knew that if they tried to make it work without their third they’d almost certainly be unstable, would fight and struggle to get along.

But oh, how he hoped they’d find her soon, because he wanted to stay with Remy, to see the other man like this regularly, flushed and begging, his cock straining in Brock’s hand, leaking copiously from the tip. Wanted to hear his name cried out in that husky accented voice as Remy arched up, taking him deeper still, right to the root, his tightly swollen balls slapping against the other man’s pert, tense ass.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ ,” Brock gritted out as Remy clenched around him rhythmically, and Remy laughed rather breathily.

“I’m a miracle, all right, but not that one.” And to Brock’s astonishment, Remy’s hands began to glow with violet light, as he reached up and traced his fingers down Brock’s muscled abdomen.

Energy sparkled through Brock, racing along his nerves, leaving an impossibly pleasurable sensation in its wake, and he gave a strangled cry, hips jerking helplessly as he thrust, his hand tugging firmly on Remy’s cock.

Remy shouted his name as Brock’s rough thrusts jolted over his prostate, the strong hand clenching on him a perfect stimulus to push him over the edge even as wet heat flooded inside him and Brock collapsed atop his shaking body, Remy’s cock spurting between them stickily as Brock kissed him.

“What. The. _Fuck_ ,” Brock managed to croak out eventually.

Remy tried to stroke Brock’s back soothingly, but his soulmate pulled back, slipping out of him and moving away, crouching defensively on the end of the bed.

“What did you _do_ to me? What _are_ you?”

“I could ask you the same thing, _mon coeur_ ,” Remy tried to appear unruffled, though it was difficult when he could see the fear in Brock’s eyes. Not to mention the fact that he was lying flat on his back stark naked with his own come all over his stomach and Brock’s dripping out of his ass. “You’re no ordinary merc or ex-military bodyguard. Those guys tonight, they know some of what I am - not all of it, but enough that they wouldn’t have sent you up against me alone unless they had a fair idea that you could win. Which you couldn’t, unless you too are _more_.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Brock sat back on his haunches. “I used to work for HYDRA.”

That sent Remy coiling like a spring, shoving himself up to a sitting position. “ _Those_ bastards!”

“Easy,” Brock made a placating gesture. “It was - I was fucked up with PTSD when I got out of the SEALs, made some fucking awful decisions. Got recruited by SHIELD, showed myself willing to be pretty ruthless, next thing I knew I was neck deep in HYDRA with no way out. The only way out of HYDRA is in a pine box. If you get that much courtesy.”

Remy nodded slowly, acknowledging that much. “So how did _you_ get out, then?”

“They thought I died. I was in the Triskelion when it fell. But one of HYDRA’s mad science research divisions obviously did something to me at some point. Without my consent, I might add. I shouldn’t have survived that crash, nor the seventy per cent burns I was covered in when the rescue workers dug me out, but I did. And I healed, and HYDRA never came looking for me.”

“So you turned merc,” Remy murmured thoughtfully.

“It was that or turn myself in.” Brock shrugged half-angrily. “I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but given the choice of rotting in prison for it or accepting the fact that I’m a bit of a shady bastard and getting on with my second chance at life…”

“ _D’accord_.” Remy looked at him consideringly, hugging his knees. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of either. When you grow up a orphaned mutant thief on the New Orleans docks, life is more of a sewer than a rose garden. It’s hard to avoid getting splashed with shit.”

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. “So neither of us is perfect,” Brock said finally. “I’m glad to be out of HYDRA. If I come across any of the bastards now, I kill them, but I try and stay off their radar because I don’t want to get hauled back in.”

“I do not want to be on their radar either, _mon coeur_ , believe me!” Remy smiled, relaxing again at last. “So, what do you say?” he stretched, deliberately flaunting his body.

“I say you didn’t answer my question about what exactly _you_ are, yet,” Brock said dryly, trying to keep his eyes on Remy’s face, damn difficult though that was with all that long lean muscular deliciousness laid out temptingly before him.

“Mutant,” Remy shrugged elegantly. “X-gene.”

“Xavier’s?”

“You know about them, do you? Well, I suppose you would, if you were SHIELD. I didn’t go to school there, no. I’m too old for that. I’ve taught there a few times, worked with them, but I wouldn’t call myself one _of_ them. They’re a little too holier-than-thou for me.”

“How old _are_ you?” Brock asked quietly. He’d been born with his soulmark, but Remy looked mid-twenties at most, to Brock’s forty-five.

“Sixty-one, give or take,” Remy replied equally quietly. “I don’t know my exact date of birth.”

“Christ. You’re immortal.”

“I don’t age. It’s not the same thing, I’m pretty sure I can die, though I’ve no desire to test the theory. It’s - related to my gift, I think. I manipulate energy, I can change the _forms_ of energy - potential energy to heat, or kinetic - and the energy in me, it seems to want to keep my body strong and healthy. I don’t consciously control my healing.” Remy leaned forward, eyes on Brock’s. “Who knows how long _you_ will live, now? You’ve healed from what must have been quite serious injuries.”

Brock’s hand flew to his face, brushed over his cheek. “I was a wreck,” he admitted, “a horrible patchwork of scars. Thought I’d have to learn to use makeup to avoid having children throw up at the sight of me.”

Remy reached out, brushed fingers glowing faintly with purple light over Brock’s chiselled jawline. “You’re gorgeous,” he said quietly. “Couldn’t believe my luck when I realised you’re my soulmate. So what do you say, _mon coeur_? Shall we give it a try, hope we find her together - or do we just meet up sometimes for this?” He indicated the mussed sheets.

Brock read the words on Remy’s stomach again. Considered his own. “They - could be something that might be said at the same time,” he said cautiously.

“I think so too,” Remy’s smile was hopeful. Inviting. “And I think we could work together well, besides. Your skills and mine together - we’d make one hell of a team.”

“The merc and the thief,” Brock murmured thoughtfully. Eyeing Remy, who’d already begun to get hard again. “I see you’ve got the refractory period of a guy in your early twenties, as well as the looks,” he said wryly.

Remy’s grin was positively wicked. Leaning forward, his fingers glowing with violet light, he traced them slowly down Brock’s chest. “So,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss him, “do you, _mon coeur_.”

Brock groaned into Remy’s mouth as the energy zipped through him, making his cock spring suddenly back to attention. “Uh. Well, they do say you’re only as old as you feel…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Darcy flatly refuses to let either of her soulmates get so much as a kiss out of her until they've proven their good intentions. She manages to convince Stark to go along with the plan to swindle Justin Hammer - Stark of course thinks it's wonderfully funny. They recruit Natasha, who had her own delightful experience with Hammer, and between them all they devise a foolproof plot to make Hammer look like an utter moron, AND swipe his $20 million dollars.**

**Stark throws a party to celebrate, at which Natasha breaks it to Steve that Rumlow has now switched sides, brought in his soulmate who's possibly the world's finest thief (" _Excusez-moi, madame, mais je suis définitivement le meilleur voleur du monde!_ ") and that the pair of them are Darcy's soulmates.**

**Steve vacillates for a while, but eventually he decides to trust Nat and settles for asking Rumlow about Bucky, but Rumlow has no new information for him; he only found about about the Asset a few days before Project Insight's failed launch and afterwards HYDRA cut him loose so he went merc. He does offer his and Remy's help to find Bucky and Steve accepts.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We can start looking tomorrow," Darcy interrupted as Steve shook Brock's hand. "Tonight, we party, courtesy of Mr Justin Hammer!" She laughed, lifting her champagne glass high.

"First party here I haven't paid for," Tony grinned, nudging Remy's shoulder.

"Thanks to Darcy," Remy replied, smiling and reaching to put his arm around her. She smiled up at him brightly, dropped her eyes as his expression turned smouldering.

"I'm thinking it's time we take our girl away from all this," Brock murmured in Remy's ear a little later as they leaned on the bar, watching Darcy laughing with Jane, Sam and Clint.

"I think you're correct, _mon coeur_ ," Remy agreed, smiling as they watched Darcy walk away towards the bathrooms, a little unsteady in her high heels. "I think it's time we showed Darcy just what we can do for her."

They'd talked about it - talked about it endlessly, in fact, driving themselves mad with lust, but at least able to sate themselves with each other. Walking quickly now, they intercepted Darcy just before she entered the service corridor.

“Hmm?” Darcy blinked with surprise as a strong arm curled around her waist and smoothly swept her away from her intended destination. “Remy…” she smiled up at him. “Just going to the bathroom.”

“Not that one, _ma petite_ ,” he murmured, tugging her with him, into an elevator where Brock was holding the doors open. They slid closed, trapping the three of them together - and Darcy was suddenly sandwiched between them, one of the men on either side of her, her back to the wall.

“Oh,” she said a bit inadequately. They’d been giving her hot stares all evening, and she’d suspected that something like this might happen. Hoped for it, really. But now that she was alone with them, really alone as they hadn’t been since the night of their first meeting - she was suddenly nervous.

“What - where are we going, then?” Darcy looked away from Remy’s faintly glowing eyes to meet Brock’s. The look he was giving her was just as intense, though, and she swallowed, goosebumps suddenly springing up along her arms.

"Well," Brock murmured huskily, moving even closer, so that now his hard body was pushing her up against Remy's, "since we're now officially on Stark's payroll..."

"You are?" Darcy blinked.

" _Mais oui_. Stark says he would rather have us working for him than risk us going up against him again. Since last time we were only thwarted by a beautiful blue-eyed girl who left her iPod in the lab," Remy smirked. "So he's put us on retainer."

"We'll make ourselves useful," Brock grinned when Darcy gave him a wide-eyed stare. "The Avengers are a pretty blunt instrument, after all. Sometimes you need a little more finesse. Especially if you need to retrieve something that might be breakable."

"I can see that," Darcy nodded. She'd heard more than one of Tony's rants about Thor frying all the electronics before he had a chance to get anything useful out of them. "So... you work here now?"

"And live here," Brock's grin was positively sinful as the elevator doors slid open. "Stark gave us an apartment."

 _Oh dear God_ , Darcy realised, _they're on my floor!_ She had a cute little studio apartment on the forty-third floor, but there were apartments of various different sizes, and Brock and Remy were leading her to the apartment at the other end, the one she knew would be much like Jane and Thor's a few floors away, taking up one whole corner of the floor.

"We thought you might like to take a look around, _petite_ " Remy's voice was warm, rich with amusement. "Think about how you might like to decorate."

"How _I_ might like to decorate? It's _your_ apartment!" She wheeled to face them. They kept coming, backing her right through the open apartment door, Brock closing it behind him.

"And you're our soulmate," Remy said reasonably. "Neither Brock nor I care much for decoration. We've lived quite - Spartan lives."

 _Ugh, I'm feeling sorry for them again._ They were both giving her puppy-dog eyes. It wasn't going to work.

Well, it couldn't work if she didn't look at them - Darcy wheeled around again, looking around the apartment. It was decorated in what she cynically assessed as 'Stark-basic', black leather couch, glass table, enormous TV. And that was it.

"I suppose - it's a little drab," she took a tentative step forward.

"We only moved in yesterday," Brock moved up behind her, thickly muscled arm sliding around her waist. "You were busy in the labs," he was clean-shaven tonight, his lips tickling her ear as he leaned in close to murmur to her. "Or we'd have invited you before."

"Nnn," he was so _close_. Darcy swayed a little closer instinctively, leaning into his strength, turning her head to look up at him - and Brock took his chance, swooping in to claim her lips.

She'd been so careful to keep them at arm's length, until she was certain they really _weren't_ bad guys, weren't going to use her and break her heart. But the very fact of Stark hiring them, bringing them to live here, told Darcy that her fears were unfounded. The Avengers had chosen to trust her soulmates, and she no longer had a reason to maintain her distance.

Oh, and how she _wanted_... she'd seen their heated looks, their tempting glances. The way they would touch each other and then look at her, wicked smiles enticing her to join them. To claim her share of their love.

Brock's mouth was hot and hungry, his tongue teasing, stroking hers with tempting little flickers that made Darcy melt into his arms. And then suddenly Remy was there too, behind her, strong hands landing on her hips and holding on tight as he nuzzled into her neck, nipping and sucking at her earlobe.

_This is really happening. My two incredibly hot soulmates are going to make love to me._

_I still really need the bathroom._

_Even more so, now._

Darcy pulled back from Brock with a huge effort of will and mumbled, "Bathroom."

He chuckled quietly. "All right. This way."

Of course he led her into the bedroom first, and here at least there were some signs of habitation, clothes folded atop the dresser, a book on one of the nightstands - a long stick leaning against the wall in the corner - Darcy eyed that curiously, mentally shrugged. She'd figure out what that was about eventually. "Thanks," she mumbled to Brock as he opened the bathroom door for her.

Inside, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes looked wide and a bit shocky, her lipstick pretty much all smudged off - and she couldn't even put more on, since her bag was upstairs. Though it would probably only get kissed off - she licked her lips, still tasting Brock in her mouth. He'd been drinking Stark's expensive Scotch, mellow and delicious. She took off her glasses and laid them on the vanity, leaned in closer to stare hard at herself.

“Get a grip, Darcy Lewis,” she said to herself in the mirror. “There are two stupidly hot guys out there just waiting to do deliciously debauched things to you.”

The girl in the mirror’s blue eyes widened even further.

“Yeah, I know, I find it unbelievable as well.”

It took Darcy a few minutes to pluck up her courage to venture back out - and when she did, she stopped dead in the doorway, her mouth falling open.

Brock and Remy were on the bed, both stripped down to just undershorts, kissing passionately, entwined in a tangle of muscular arms and legs. Remy was on top, his long hair falling into Brock’s face, Brock’s fingers raking down Remy’s spine making him arch and thrust his hips against the other man.

Darcy just stared, transfixed. Her two soulmates kissing, touching like that - it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen, bar none. She pressed her knees together, feeling them shake.

Brock moaned into Remy’s mouth and grabbed a handful of his hair then, pulling his head back.

“We’re leavin’ our girl out of all the fun,” he murmured, grinning up at Remy.

“ _C’est vrai_ , how rude of us,” Remy agreed, and they both turned their heads to look at Darcy, still standing frozen in the doorway. “Why don’t you come join us, _petite_?”

“Ddddd,” was the only sound Darcy could make, greeted with identical feral grins, and then Brock and Remy both sliding off the bed and coming towards her, stalking her, moving with slow, predatory intent.

Her knees felt so weak she couldn’t have run even if she’d wanted to. And right now all she wanted to do was stand there, clinging to the doorframe for support, staring at the two magnificent male specimens who were apparently all _hers_.

“I must have done something really, really good in a previous life,” Darcy said dazedly as Brock reached her. He grinned down at her, curling an arm around her waist.

“Yeah? Maybe you were a saint or somethin’, sweetheart. But Remy and me, we’re sinners. Debauchment’s more our game than angelic deeds.”

“ _Oui_ ,” Remy agreed, sidling in on her other side, peeling Darcy’s hand off the door frame and lifting it to his lips, kissing it in a gallant gesture. “And we have been looking forward to this day for a long time, _petite_.”

She looked up at him, at his eyes glowing faintly in the light, the high, carved cheekbones, and said what she was thinking. “Dear God, you’re utterly gorgeous.”

Full lips curved in a smile before Remy said, “ _Et tu aussi, ma belle_.”

“Aaand when you speak French I can’t stand up,” she clutched at him for support, and he and Brock both laughed huskily.

“He does it a lot in bed,” Brock confided in her ear, making her shiver. “I can translate, if you need.”

“I think Darcy will know what I mean,” Remy murmured, “when I am begging her to ride me to heaven and beyond, she will know.”

“Knees. Don’t work,” Darcy whispered feebly, and was immediately lifted off her feet, carried easily to the bed in Brock’s strong arms.

“Keep talkin’, Gambit, I think our girl likes it,” Brock said with a grin as he laid Darcy down, and Remy chuckled, sitting down by Darcy’s feet and taking her foot in his hand, easing off her shoe and massaging her toes sensually.

“Then you must put your mouth to the use I intended for mine,” Remy smirked.

“I can do that,” Brock agreed, then looked back at Darcy’s face. “When she’s ready.”

She was nervous, both men could tell. By unspoken consent, they both moved to lie down, on either side of her, turned in towards her, one hand from each resting lightly on her stomach.

“Are you ready for this, Darcy?” Brock asked quietly.

“I…” she looked into his gold-brown eyes, saw genuine concern there. “I… want to. But… could we go slowly?”

“As slowly as you want.” His big hand caressed her hair lightly. “Me ‘n’ Remy, we’ve been wantin’ this too hard, for too long, maybe we’re too eager.”

“We don’t want to rush you, _petite_ ,” Remy murmured softly from her other side, and Darcy turned her head to look at him. “So lovely,” the backs of his fingers ghosted over her cheek and she kissed at them lightly, making him smile. “I did not even taste those sweet lips yet.”

She smiled at him, reached out to touch his cheek, brushing his hair back from his eyes. “I’d like that.”

“Fuck me,” Brock breathed, leaning up on one elbow to watch as Remy and Darcy kissed, slow at first and then deeper, licking and nipping at each other’s lips, Remy’s tongue slipping into Darcy’s mouth to tease hers. She didn’t seem to know where to put her hands until Remy chuckled darkly into her mouth and grabbed her wrists, bringing her hands to his chest.

“Ummm,” he felt good, all smooth skin and shifting muscle. Darcy could feel Brock against her back too, but he wasn’t pushing, wasn’t crushing. Was watching her and Remy kiss, his breath coming faster, his hand still lightly petting her hair. Pulling back from the kiss, Darcy glanced over her shoulder at him. “I don’t want you to be left out.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I ain’t feeling left out,” but his smile was pleased. “You keep on kissin’ Remy there. I’m gonna play back here.” Her hair was gently swept aside and his mouth fastened on her neck, sucking a slow hickey into the sensitive spot just below her ear as his hips started to rock against her ass.

He was _very_ happy to be there, Darcy could tell, and her body was more than happy about it too, pleasurable little tremors skidding along her nerves as a big hand settled on her hip, just holding her still as he ground slowly. But it was hard to focus on that when Remy was kissing her again, his mouth hot and knowing, his long fingers stroking down her cheek lightly, caressing her throat around where Brock’s mouth worked.

It was Darcy who got impatient first, needy for more, wanting more of that hot skin against hers. She dug her fingers lightly into Remy’s chest and he moved back, Brock mirroring the movement.

“ _Oui, ma petite_?” Remy murmured. “ _Qu’est ce que tu veux?_ ”

“He said, what do you want,” Brock translated. “Anything you want, Darcy, you can have. Anything.”

She shivered at the thought. “I think - I might be a little overdressed.” She was still wearing her dress and the little cashmere cardigan she’d put on over it, since the Tower was rather over-air-conditioned for her taste. Remy had removed her shoes, but she still had her stockings on - and thank God she’d decided to wear the pretty things Natasha had coaxed her into, not her usual thick tights. It was very warm in here, though, sandwiched between two solidly muscled bodies.

“Yeah?” Brock sounded amused. “Want me to do something about that?” His hand on her hip smoothed downwards. Her skirt was long, past her knees, but had rucked up, and the heat of his hand through the thin nylon of her stockings was intense.

“Y-yes,” Darcy whispered, and he kissed her neck again slowly - and took his hand off her thigh.

“Let’s take this off, then. You look warm. All flushed,” he tugged at one sleeve of her cardigan.

“I wonder why that is!”

Remy chuckled deeply, and suddenly rolled to his back, strong arm around her waist pulling her with him. Brock slipped the cardigan easily off her shoulders and pulled it free of her arms, immediately putting his hands back on her shoulders, kneeling behind her to kiss across them. Goosebumps sprang up across Darcy’s back. She felt a light tug then as he took hold of her zipper.

“ _Dieu merci_ , but you are beautiful,” Remy murmured, distracting her, lifting his fingers to trace reverently across her face, down her throat. “Share your beauty with us, Darcy. Let us look at you.”

She’d never felt particularly comfortable in her skin. Never flaunted her curves as Natasha did so easily, preferred to cover up in concealing layers, keep men at bay with her sharp tongue. She’d developed early and hated the leers that came with large breasts under a school blouse.

But with Remy gazing at her as though she was his every fantasy come to life, Brock’s hot mouth tracing sensual patterns on the back of her neck as his hand held still, waiting for her permission - Darcy nodded.

“Take it off,” she whispered.

The zipper hissed down, the short sleeves of the dress slid off her shoulders, and Remy drew in a deep breath, his eyes blazing.

“ _Magnifique_.”

Brock hummed in agreement, looking down over Darcy’s shoulder as he eased the dress down to her waist. Her hands were trapped in the sleeves temporarily, thwarting her sudden impulse to cross her arms over her breasts.

 _At least it’s a nice bra_ , she consoled herself. Having an actual salary now, and a very nice one from Stark Industries, thank you very much - apparently good science wranglers really were worth their weight in, if not gold, at least a _fairly_ precious substance - she’d hunted down the best bra shop in New York and splurged, throwing out all her old, shapeless greying ones.

This particular bra was dark bronze satin, a shade lighter than the dress she’d been wearing, a perfectly fitting balconette. Remy groaned, hands stroking downwards, fingertips just flicking lightly over the exposed tops of her breasts, and Darcy gasped as a little jolt of energy shot through her.

“That’s good, _petite_?” Remy purred, and she realised his fingertips were glowing violet, that the energy she could feel was coming from _him_.

“That’s - that’s totally cheating, using superpowers,” she tried to gasp out as his fingers dipped inside her bra cups, but her voice came out garbled, and then his fingers brushed over her nipples.

“Oh my God!” Darcy arched back with a strangled cry, but there was nowhere to go, Brock was right behind her, immobile as a wall - deft fingers flicking her bra open.

Bared to the waist, Darcy shuddered atop Remy, moaning as Brock’s big hands cupped her breasts, holding them for Remy to play with her nipples. It felt so _good_ , as though her nipples were connected directly to her clit, as though every flick of his glowing fingertips was strumming right on that even more sensitive spot. Of course she immediately thought of how it might feel if he touched her _there_ \- and climaxed, making choked sounds of pleasure as she arched back against Brock, ground her hips down frantically against Remy.

“Did she just…?”

“ _Oui, mon coeur_ ,” Remy looked delighted, as well he might. “So sensitive, _petite_ ,” he crooned to Darcy, “you are glorious.”

She moaned, would have collapsed on him but for Brock’s strong arms holding her up, leant back against him instead, her head lolling against his shoulder.

Her skirt was rucked up to her waist, only the thin fabric of his shorts and her panties separating her sex from Remy, and he could feel how wet she was, dampening his cock through the material.

“Let us take this off, _petite_ ,” he tugged lightly at the bunched fabric of her skirt. “Let us pleasure you.”

“Yes,” Darcy whimpered, and immediately Brock was lifting her off Remy, laying her down, strong hands stripping off her dress. He groaned with pleasure at the sight of her stockings and garters, the suspender belt and thong panties a match to the bronze satin bra he’d already flung aside.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” Brock breathed reverently, fingers skimming lightly up her stockinged thighs.

“Not beautiful…” Darcy shook her head, knowing he was wrong. She looked even worse beside his and Remy’s hard, chiselled physiques, her thighs plump, her belly softly curved.

“ _Stunning_ ,” Brock disagreed, his fingers tracing over the soft pale flesh just above the band of her stockings.

“Perfect,” Remy seconded, having rolled to his side, his big hand splaying over Darcy’s stomach. “Kiss me, _mon ange_ , you are so beautiful, that mouth of yours… mmm…” his tongue traced lightly over Darcy’s lower lip and she opened her mouth eagerly, let him kiss her, barely aware of Brock unclipping her stockings until he began to roll them down her thighs, following with his mouth, a trail of hot wet kisses and light nips on tender skin.

They kissed and stroked her, whispering words of adoration, praising her beauty. Warm hands caressed every inch of her skin, hot mouths following, until Darcy was a boneless mess of sensations, her hands flexing weakly in the sheet beneath her.

“Please,” she whimpered at last. “Want… more…” They were staying away from her breasts and her groin, searching out other sensitive spots on her skin, taking things slowly as she’d asked them to - but she no longer _wanted_ slow.

Brock laughed against her thigh. The remnants of her clothing were long since stripped away. “You can have anything you want, sweetheart. All you have to do is tell us.”

Darcy moaned at the thought, these two powerful men wanting to gratify her every desire. Forcing her eyes open, she looked down at them, at Remy who was playing with her fingers, sucking them slowly into his mouth as his own traced tiny patterns on the inside of her wrist, at Brock’s dark head over her thigh, his eyes turned up to hers as he kissed her again.

“I…” but she couldn’t make herself say it.

“What, sweetheart?” Brock pushed himself to his knees, crawled up the bed to kiss her. “God, you’re lovely,” he whispered reverently, his hands tracing slow circles over her breasts, heard Remy hum in agreement. “More beautiful than I thought, hidden away in your sloppy sweaters with your hair covered with a beanie half the time. Why do you do that, Darcy?”

She shook her head, looking into his eyes, feeling Remy crawling up beside her, still kissing her fingers. “I’m not beautiful. I’m _fat_.”

They both gasped angry denials, Brock scowling ferociously. “No! No, you’re not, you’re _gorgeous_. All curves and sweetness.” His hand skimmed down her sides. “To me, you’re kindness and gentleness, warmth and comfort.” His voice was low, passionate. “My life’s been tough, Darcy; Remy’s even worse. We _need_ a soft centre, someone to teach us how to love, to love us back. Neither of us would want a girl who’s all angles and muscle and sharp edges. You, _you_ are perfect. Just as you are.”

Darcy stared at him incredulously before grabbing him, sinking her fingers into his thick black hair and pulling him to her. “You,” she said just before kissing him, “are a total marshmallow under that hard-man exterior.”

Brock grinned against her mouth; she heard Remy’s throaty chuckle. “He certainly is, _petite_.”

One of Brock’s big hands curved around her breast, and then he pulled back from the kiss and ducked his head, licking quickly over her still-tingling nipple. “That’s our secret, hmm?”

“Yes,” Darcy agreed breathily. “Yes - it’s really sexy… ohhhh,” as Remy claimed the other breast, both of them suckling, cupping plump flesh in their hands and _feasting_ on her. Hands stole down across her stomach, caressing her curves, worshipping her body, parted her legs and slid between. A fingertip traced a slow circle around her clit, even as another thrust deep inside her.

Darcy didn’t know which hand belonged to which man, and frankly she didn’t care. All her pleasure centres being stimulated at once felt impossibly good; she moaned and writhed, hands clutching at them, tugging Brock’s hair, nails digging into the smooth muscle of Remy’s shoulders. Suddenly she was coming again, clenching around the fingers pushing deep into her, her clit throbbing as - it had to be Remy - sent tiny pulses of energy through it, making her body arch and hoarse screams come from her throat.

“ _Magnifique_ ,” Remy murmured, “ _Très belle_ , Darcy, so good, so lovely.”

She was panting as she came down; Brock’s thick fingers still moving slowly inside her. He crooked them suddenly and she jerked and let out a little shriek, making him chuckle against her breast.

“Okay, sweetheart?” he asked quietly.

“So much okay,” Darcy gabbled, “so much, oh _fuck_.”

“Move your hand, Remy, I want a taste,” Brock ordered, and Remy chuckled, pouting at him.

“ _Moi aussi_!”

“You can wait your turn.”

“Then I shall just have to content myself with these magnificent breasts, non?” Remy moved up the bed, smiling down at Darcy. “Brock can be very bossy,” he told her confidingly.

“I think I like tha… _aat!_ ” Brock’s tongue was slurping over her already-sensitive clit, making Darcy shudder. Remy smirked and lowered his mouth to her breast again. She clutched at him, running her fingers into his long hair and holding him close. She’d never imagined anything like the two men were making her feel, her whole body reacting to their touch.

“Remy,” she panted finally, “Brock… stop.”

They both obeyed instantly, moving to cradle her between them, snuggling her as she shivered and shook.

“Easy,” Brock whispered, smoothing her hair. “Easy.”

“It’s - it’s too much, I didn’t expect…”

“Hush.” Brock glanced over Darcy’s body to Remy, who grimaced at him. They’d rushed Darcy, pushed her too far despite agreeing that they wouldn’t. While they knew she wasn’t _completely_ inexperienced, the way her body had reacted told them that nobody had ever _truly_ devoted themselves to her pleasure before, let alone two men who knew exactly how to pleasure a woman.

“Darcy,” Remy said at last, “ _petite_ , this is all for you. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Brock and I, we only want you to have pleasure, but if you’re not ready, it’s all right.”

She stilled in between them, and then, to his surprise, laughed a bit sheepishly into his throat. “I am! God, I really am. I just, it’s been a really long time and I - was a bit - surprised. That energy thing, that’s totally cheating.”

“We’re agreed on that, but you’ll find it feels so good you won’t really care,” Brock murmured against her hair. “How long is a really long time, sweetheart? Thor told us about Ian…”

“I really need to teach Thor to keep his mouth shut,” Darcy grumbled, and then sighed. “Ian and I never got anywhere. I mean, he saved my life and I was grateful, but… it was a bit like kissing a wet fish.”

Remy failed to suppress a snort.

“So the last time was, um, in college. About - four years ago?”

They both pulled back and stared at her wide-eyed. Darcy suppressed the urge to hide her face. “I experimented a bit in college, but - really I wanted to wait for my soulmates. For you two. It’s why I cover up like I do…” she gestured at her boobs. “These, they attract attention I didn’t want. My parents are soulmates, I know how it’s supposed to be. I didn’t _want_ anyone else. Just you two.”

“ _Darcy_ ,” Brock said deeply after a moment, and then he was kissing her, his strong hand cradling her face gently. Remy started kissing her neck, mumbling brokenly in French, energy racing along her skin as his fingers brushed lightly up and down her side.

A little shyly, Darcy reached her hands down, fingers brushing lightly over two sets of rock-hard abs. They were both still wearing close-fitting jockey shorts, and she’d barely skimmed over the waistband before hardness was pressing eagerly at her fingers through the thin cloth.

She felt Brock’s breath hitch, heard Remy’s soft moan. “Darcy, _ma belle_ …”

Her fingers curved, shaping around them. _Big_ , was her first thought. _I want_ , was her second. Deliberately, she shifted her hips, rubbing in between them.

Remy pulled off her neck and unleashed a sudden torrent of French she didn’t catch a word of, before suddenly rolling away. Darcy moaned with the loss of his warm body behind her, pulled back from Brock, reached out.

“Please…”

“He’s gettin’ protection, Darce,” Brock murmured, in between pressing kisses on her neck. “If you’re not ready for more, that’s okay, we can take care of each other, but if he’s feelin’ anything like I am - well, I’m about ready to burst.”

“No, I want - I want more,” Darcy gasped, watching Remy, who was standing beside the bed. He’d shoved his shorts down and kicked out of them, was rolling a rubber onto an extremely handsome cock, thick, curving up towards his flat stomach. She moaned in her throat as Brock’s lips found her nipple again. “Want you - _both_.”

“Not this time, _petite_ ,” Remy crawled back onto the bed beside her. “We’d hurt you. Let’s save that for another time, _oui_?”

“Mm, I don’t mind waitin’ my turn,” Brock agreed, gazing down across Darcy’s body as Remy parted her legs and knelt between them.

“You said I could have whatever I wanted,” Darcy pouted up at him.

Brock blinked, and then chuckled. “You’ll be gettin’ plenty of what you want, sweetheart, promise. Look,” he reached out and ran his hand down across Remy’s chest, tweaking at a nipple, making the Cajun groan. “Don’t you want some of this?” Brock’s hand encircled the base of Remy’s cock, squeezing, tugging Remy closer.

“Ah, _mon coeur_ ,” Remy groaned roughly, leaned in and kissed Brock. Darcy watched in fascination as Brock pulled Remy forward down towards Darcy. She lifted her hips eagerly, moaned as Brock teased the tip of Remy’s cock over her clit before feeding it inside her.

“ _Nom de Dieu_!” Remy gritted out, watching as Brock slowly pushed his cock deeper into Darcy’s hot, wet tunnel. She was tight, but soaking, sucking him in greedily until Brock had to remove his hand for Remy to push deep. No way was Brock going to leave them to it, though, shifting around until he had one hand between them, fingers scissoring over Darcy’s clit, the other slipping down over Remy’s buttocks and cupping his balls, before a rough fingertip dragged back over his taint.

“ _T’es rien qu’un petit connard_ ,” Remy gasped, and Brock chuckled in response.

“I know. You love it.”

Remy could only moan, his hands reaching down to plump Darcy’s breasts and tweak her nipples. He couldn’t concentrate enough for fine energy control to stimulate her, not that it mattered, because she was thrashing and moaning, clutching at both of them, pushing back against his slow thrusts.

“Fuck, yeah,” Brock groaned, watching them, these two people he loved as he’d never loved anyone before, crying out as they took each other to ecstasy and he helped them along the way.

Remy went first, losing it entirely as Brock pressed a thick thumb into his ass, emitting a low, wordless howl as his hips jerked erratically. Darcy moaned, _just_ short of her peak, sobbed with loss as he pulled back.

“No, please, please, so close…”

“I got you, sweetheart,” and Brock was taking Remy’s place, hastily discarding his shorts and rolling on a condom before hooking his arms under Darcy’s body and lifting her into his lap. Sitting back on his heels, he pulled her to him, pressing her breasts against his chest, and kissed her long and slow as he thrust up.

Remy, temporarily sated, still couldn’t resist kneeling behind Darcy to hold her as Brock fucked her hard, supporting Darcy against his chest. Brock grinned and let Remy pull her back to play with her breasts, hot mouth suckling on her neck to mark her just as Brock already had.

Darcy whimpered, hips rolling frantically as Brock thrust up hard, his thick cock rubbing perfectly against the exquisitely sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside her. Remy licked her earlobe and nipped it, tugging lightly with his teeth as his fingers rolled her pebbled nipples, and _oh God_ he was doing that energy thing with his fingertips again…

Brock’s eyes just about rolled back in his head as Darcy started clenching around him, screaming both his and Remy’s names. Not even a superhuman effort could stave off his climax, and he came with a deep roar, bucking up into her, straining every sinew.

Darcy whimpered, writhing between Brock and Remy as heat flooded inside her, strong hands holding her steady, her head falling back against Remy’s shoulder as she wailed her ecstasy. He mumbled to her in French, his hands gentling against her breasts, warm lips tracing over her cheek and jaw.

“Unhhhh,” Darcy groaned at last, opening her eyes. Brock was still inside her, his head dropped forward, forehead pressed against her shoulder, his hot breath on her breast as he panted.

“So good,” he whispered, pressing kisses to her skin, lifting her easily. He and Remy laid her down on the bed between them, cuddled in close to her, stroking her reverently, murmuring soft words of praise and adoration.

She’d never felt so happy, so contented and fulfilled, in her life, blissfully weary. And then she felt Remy stir against her hip, jerked her head up to look down in amazement.

“You can’t possibly!”

Remy smirked, and Brock snorted with laughter. “I’m afraid, sweetheart, that when you play with Gambit, you ain’t done until _he_ says so.”

“But…” Darcy would have said more, but Remy’s violet-glowing fingers brushed over her lower stomach and a huge surge of energy rippled through her, before he reached over to Brock. “That’s not even… _how_?” she demanded. “ _Where_ do you get the energy?”

“It’s everywhere, _petite_ ,” Remy smirked, sliding down between her legs. “The air around us right now is just a little cooler, _non_? But you do not feel it, because Remy and Brock, we are here to keep you warm.”

“Using superpowers during sex is _so_ cheating,” Darcy bemoaned to Brock as he leaned up on one elbow, brushing her sweat-damp hair back from her brow.

“I know,” Brock agreed, smiling down at her as Remy’s tongue flicked and she shuddered, “but oddly enough I stopped caring after the first night we spent together. And I’m pretty sure you’ll feel the same way too.”

Darcy was pretty sure he was right. When dawn broke and they finally drifted off to sleep in a tangle of limbs, she was quite certain of it.

 

**_French words and phrases used in this fic:_ **

 

_Certainement – certainly_

_Je t'adore – I adore you_

_mon amour – my love_

_mon coeur – my heart_

_petite – little one_

_le cafard – the cockroach_

_Seulement pour toi, mon coeur, oh, mon Dieu_... –  _only for you, my heart – oh my God_

 _C'est la langue d'amour_   _– It is the language of love_

 _Va te faire enculer_   _! – Go fuck yourself!_

_D’accord – OK_

_Excusez-moi, madame, mais je suis définitivement le meilleur voleur du monde! – Excuse me, madam, but I am definitely the world’s finest thief!_

_Mais oui – but yes_

_C’est vrai – that’s true_

_Et tu aussi, ma belle – and you also, my beautiful_

_Qu’est ce que tu veux – what do you want?_

_Mon Dieu  - My God_

_Magnifique – magnificent_

_Très belle – very beautiful_

_Moi aussi – me too_

_T’es rien qu’un petit connard – you really are an asshole_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next up will be Jean/Scott/Skye, as voted for by Karee, cd1, Spitfire303 , Florence, Kat, Jinx Tonks, lonelyrose03, Betsbets, Plant_Murderer, LovelyGirl51, sagebows, Bozaq, lonestar40k, BTRlover2211, lillyroseknight, Val9, Anna, Annie, TWD, Daylights, krazykat00, DragonCurse4, Punkette123, LightSkye, Jocasta Silver, SailorNova007, Tai, Gabrielle_Maxwell, Beatrice Diggory, inugirl2469, TheLittleSwan, SwifteForeverAndAlways, EllaMichelle, LadyWinterlight, Holieshka, Sarra Torrens, RustyBelle, anggita91 and Chey!**
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> **Check out the voting list in the next chapter, and then come BACK to this chapter to leave me a comment to vote, please! You CANNOT vote for the same ship more than once. I don’t have time to respond to let you know if you have, so please check CAREFULLY if your name is already down against the ship you want to see!**


	21. Jean Grey/Scott Summers/Skye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continues on from [Chapter 118, We Could Fix That](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/7983882). Also in the same universe as Jemma.Pyro/Iceman.
> 
> This is, obviously, AU after S02E12.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As voted for by Karee, cd1, Spitfire303 , Florence, Kat, Jinx Tonks, lonelyrose03, Betsbets, Plant_Murderer, LovelyGirl51, sagebows, Bozaq, lonestar40k, BTRlover2211, lillyroseknight, Val9, Anna, Annie, TWD, Daylights, krazykat00, DragonCurse4, Punkette123, LightSkye, Jocasta Silver, SailorNova007, Tai, Gabrielle_Maxwell, Beatrice Diggory, inugirl2469, TheLittleSwan, SwifteForeverAndAlways, EllaMichelle, LadyWinterlight, Holieshka, Sarra Torrens, RustyBelle, anggita91 and Chey!**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/scott-jean_zpsed0on3vg.jpg.html)

Coulson gaped at the six people standing in his office. “You three. Soulmates. _And_ you three.”

Skye felt rather sorry for Coulson as Jean explained. He sat down in his office chair, rubbed at his forehead, and finally gestured them all to seats.

“So you’re taking Skye and leaving me Drake and Allerdyce?” Coulson summed up finally, looking at the two young men sitting close to Jemma, not even able to take their eyes off her.

“We think it’s the best solution for all involved,” Scott answered. “Skye can get the training she needs in a safe environment – Iceman and Pyro are certainly not the only elemental mutants we have – and since Jean and I are her soulmates, I’m sure you can see that it would be wiser for us to stay close to Skye at this difficult time for her.”

His deep voice was steady, but Skye could see tension in his body, guessed he was prepared to argue if Coulson decided to be awkward. Tentatively she reached out a hand and laid it on his; Scott turned his head to look down, as though surprised, before a small smile curved his lips and his warm fingers curled lightly around hers.

“The cure doesn’t work?” Coulson said plaintively.

“Skye chose not to take it, but we are fairly sure it wouldn’t work anyway,” Jean answered. “It did not work on the one who called herself Raina, who we understand was in the underground city with her at the same time.”

Coulson sighed, and Skye could pretty much see the moment where he decided to give in. “All right. I daresay you’re right.”

_That was suspiciously easy,_ Skye thought, wondering if Jean had been giving Coulson a little mental nudge in the right direction. She glanced across at the redhead as Coulson spoke to an oblivious and distracted Jemma, caught a private little smile on Jean’s lips and reached out for her hand too, squeezing it in silent thanks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Eight weeks and two days,_ Skye thought, scowling. _All that time I’ve spent here at the School with my soulmates and I’m not even allowed in their apartment._

She was fairly sure Scott and Jean hadn’t intended it this way, but Professor Xavier had been very firm when Skye was brought in. She was a student at the school, and over the age of consent or not, soulmates or not, student/teacher relationships were not something that would be happening at _his_ school.

And he would _know_.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Skye dived and rolled, sending out a wave of vibration from her hands and deflecting the hail of charged playing cards flying in her direction. And if they happened to be deflected in Logan’s direction, sending Logan crashing into the wall of the Danger Room, well, that was just one more thing for Gambit and the Wolverine to bicker about later.

It was a tough session, harder than anything she’d been through before. Gambit, Logan and Jubilee were among the most dangerous of the X-Men, and Skye felt utterly drained when she finally staggered out of the room. Rogue and Kitty were waiting for her, dragged her off to Recovery to fuss over her, making sure she showered and ate well. Piotr ended up carrying her to her room because she was too tired to walk.

_Would you come to my office, please, Skye?_ Xavier’s smooth voice echoed in her mind as she was eating breakfast the following morning, and she grimaced around her mouthful of toast.

“Gotta go, the Prof is calling,” taking a last slurp of coffee, she grinned around at her friends. Rogue, Kitty, Illyana and Jubilee smiled back.

“Good morning, Skye, how are you feeling?” Xavier smiled at her from behind his desk as she entered the room.

“Pretty good, still a little stiff and sore,” she admitted. Illyana had given her a massage the previous evening, though, worked out the worst of her aches. “And you, sir, how are you today?”

He smiled his gentle smile at her. “I’m well, I thank you. You did well yesterday.”

She couldn’t help but feel a little smug. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Your control was impeccable, even under severe stress. There are very few who could hold their own in a bout against any one of the mutants you faced, much less all three of them.”

Skye blushed a little. “Thank you, sir.” Xavier did not stint with praise, but this was pretty strong even from him.

“I don’t believe that there is any more that we can teach you here.”

For a moment she didn’t think she’d heard him correctly. And then all her old fears rushed to the surface.

_I’m being sent away again…_

“Stop!” Xavier, obviously reading her mind, raised a hand. “Not at all, Skye! You are welcome here, and you always will be, as a guest or as a permanent resident, the choice is yours. I only meant – you are no longer a student.” Reaching out as his chair hummed forward, he took her hand in his. “Congratulations. You’ve _graduated._ ”

“I did?” Slowly, an incredulous smile spread across her face. “Oh thank you, thank you Prof!” She flung her arms around him impulsively, and he laughed and patted her back.

“You earned it, Skye. You’ve worked incredibly hard. Now,” he pulled back and smiled at her, “since you are no longer a student, I believe there are a couple of teachers at this school you might care to visit.”

“But they’re not here,” Skye said plaintively. Scott and Jean had left the previous morning, apologizing that they couldn’t tell her where they are going.

“I know,” Xavier gave her his serene smile again. “Despite her best efforts, I’m afraid Jean’s shields may not be quite up to the job of keeping her mind entirely closed, the first time with her new soulmate. Not wanting to shock the younger students, I took the liberty of arranging a private retreat – for the three of you.” He put a set of car keys into her hand. “Your Director Coulson provided the location, actually. I understand it used to be Director Fury’s private retreat. Directions are in the car.”

Skye hugged him one more time before bolting for the door. On the way down to the parking garage, keys clutched in her fist, she hesitated. Should she pack a bag? No, she decided, carrying on down the steps. Jean knew about this. She’d have packed. Besides, if things went the way she hoped - she wouldn’t be needing many clothes anyway. Smiling happily, she tried the clicker on the remote until an SUV blinked its lights at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How far is this bloody place?” Skye growled at the GPS when it told her sweetly to continue straight on for another thirty miles. She’d been driving for two hours already, had crossed over into Canada - good thing she’d discovered a bag on the passenger seat that turned out to have her passport in it! Finally, though, the GPS directed her onto a side road, and then onto a gravel track, and at last the cabin came in sight, rustic and lovely on the banks of a small lake. She parked up and got out of the car, looking around with pleasure. It was pretty spot - but rather lonely. She was glad she wouldn’t be here alone, and with that thought, she headed for the door.

It swung open easily at her touch, and she stepped inside, looking around. Rustic, but comfortable - and Jean stood up from the couch and smiled at her.

“Jean!” Skye almost sprinted towards her, and Jean opened her arms, her smile widening further, embraced the smaller woman.

“I’m so glad you’re here, darling,” she sent a wash of loving warmth over Skye. “And I’m so proud of you passing that test in the Danger Room yesterday. I told the Professor I thought it would be too much for you…”

“I didn’t,” another voice said, and Skye looked around to see Scott, coming in from another room she guessed was the bedroom. He was wearing his sunglasses, of course, but other than that only a pair of old, soft blue jeans, torn at the knees, hanging low on his narrow hips. “I knew you’d be up to it.”

“Don’t let him fool you, he was worried,” Jean said with a quiet little laugh, “but only that you might be hurt accidentally, not that you would lose control of your powers.”

Skye smiled. “I’m perfectly fine. Not a scratch.”

“A few bruises, though?” Scott came close enough to touch, took the hand Skye held out to him. She still couldn’t read his expressions with his eyes hidden, wished for Jean’s ability to read emotions.

“Nothing serious,” she denied.

“Good.” He smile was slow, sensuous, transforming his slightly austere face. “Wouldn’t want you in less than tip-top condition for what Jean and I have planned.”

Skye shivered at the husky tone to his voice, and again as Jean’s hand caressed over her bottom. She reached up to Scott, hooked her hands around his neck and pulled him down towards her.

“I’m looking forward to it,” she whispered just before their lips met.

They’d kissed before; Scott and Jean had taken Skye off-campus for ‘dates’ at least once or twice a week, and she’d really enjoyed spending time with them. Several times they’d ended up finding some secluded spot and just making out, necking like teenagers for a while. Getting comfortable together; so Skye was more than happy now to be in her soulmates’ arms, Jean’s long slender fingers finding their way under her T-shirt and gliding up to stroke the underside of her breasts, Jean’s body behind her pressing Skye into Scott’s muscled chest.

Jean was only wearing a thin silk robe and Skye could feel the warmth of her body through it; she wanted to feel Jean’s smooth, soft skin against hers quite desperately, so after a few moments she pulled back, breaking the kiss with a smile up at Scott.

“Can we take this to the bedroom?”

Scott’s smile was just a little feral, but it was Jean who spoke. “What a fantastic idea, darling.”

Scott’s hand curled around Skye’s; she reached behind her to take Jean’s, and the three of them headed for the bedroom together. The bed was neatly made, a king size, Skye saw with pleasure as Jean walked around her and ran her long, slender fingers into Skye’s hair, tilting her face up for a kiss.

“Mm,” Jean made a happy little sound into Skye’s mouth before dropping her hands to the hem of Skye’s shirt and pulling up gently. “Take it off, darling? I want to see you.”

Scott had dropped to the bed, relaxing back against the pillows, watching the two of them. For the hundredth time, Skye wished she could see his eyes, but the little smile on his lips told her he was more than happy to just sit back and watch, for now. He spoke less than Jean, sometimes seeming aloof or uncaring, but Skye had figured out by now that he used silence as a tactic to avoid situations he found uncomfortable.

“You happy to just watch, Scott?” she asked him now, a teasing note in her voice, as Jean pulled her shirt off.

“You kidding?” he responded, his smile widening. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything, the two most beautiful women I know making love to each other. Gorgeous.”

Jean chuckled quietly, her deft fingers finding the catch of Skye’s bra and stripping it away, so she was bared to the waist. “He’s a shameless flatterer.”

“Am not,” Scott denied. “The two of you together would turn a saint into a sinner. I’m but a poor, helpless man.”

Both girls snorted at that, laughing once they realised they’d done so in sync. Skye leaned a little closer to Jean and said in a stage whisper;

“We should tie him up and make him watch.”

Scott let out a small groan, his hips jerking up involuntarily. Jean grinned with delight. “What a fantastic idea!” and in a moment she’d whipped the belt from her silk gown and dived onto the bed, grabbing onto Scott’s right arm. “You get his left, Skye!”

Scott protested and struggled, but they were both lithe and strong, and really he wasn’t fighting all that hard. Soon they had his hands secured behind his back and collapsed giggling as he grumbled at them.

Jean’s robe had come half off in the struggle, and she reclined on her side, completely unselfconscious, smiling slightly as Skye gazed at her, breath coming quickly.

She was perfection, all long lean lines, yet with unmistakably feminine curves, a tiny waist flaring into rounded hips, a short thatch of dark red curls at the apex of her slender thighs mute testament to the fact that she was a natural redhead.

“You are so incredibly stunning,” Skye whispered, dry-mouthed, staring in awe.

“Isn’t she, though?” Scott agreed. “But so are you, Skye.”

“I feel short and kinda plain compared to you two…” Skye mumbled a bit sheepishly, and Scott swore under his breath, because with his hands restrained behind his back, he couldn’t take her in his arms and reassure her.

“No, you’re stunning!” She couldn’t see his eyes, but he raked them down across her upper body, across pretty tip-tilted breasts, her flat tummy, down to the gentle swell of her hips. “Jean - show her.”

“With pleasure!” Jean smiled, discarding her robe off the side of the bed and reaching out to Skye. “Here - lie on Scott, Skye. He’s pretty comfortable.” She tugged on Skye’s hands, and soon Skye was sitting between Scott’s thighs, leaning back against his chest. She could feel his hardness through his jeans at the small of her back, but he didn’t try and grind her. Just sighed with pleasure as he looked down across her body, to a nude Jean kneeling over her thighs, leaning in to kiss Skye slowly, sucking on her bottom lip until Skye moaned and shuddered, her hands coming up shyly to caress Jean’s upper arms.

Jean’s long red hair tumbled forward, the ends brushing the upper slopes of Skye’s breasts, making her gasp and arch up a little into the sensation; Scott rumbled with pleasure behind her, gasping as she shifted against his erection.

One of Jean’s slender hands moved to Skye’s waist, placed two fingers lightly against her belt buckle. “Can I take this off, darling, and your jeans?”

“Mm,” Skye mumbled, already a little giddy with pleasure. She needed touch, craved it like a drug, and it had been so long… “please, please do.”

Jean smiled and delivered another slow, sensual kiss before moving back, her fingers sliding slowly down over Skye’s thighs, over the fabric of her jeans, until Skye whined with frustration. “Off!”

“Boots first, or you’ll get stuck,” there was a definite thread of laughter in Jean’s voice, and Scott chuckled softly as well.

“Patience,” he advised Skye quietly, “Jean likes to take her time.”

“Well so do I, sometimes, anyway, but I’ve been anticipating this for _weeks_ ,” Skye grumbled, gazing avidly at Jean as the other woman sat gracefully back on her heels and began to unlace Skye’s boots.

“So have we,” Jean told her with one of her gentle smiles, “but that’s no reason to rush things. I want to savour you, Skye. You deserve it. You deserve love and tenderness, time to discover just how wondrous lovemaking is when it’s with your soulmates.”

“Just relax,” Scott said from behind her, “and enjoy. I’m certainly going to enjoy watching until you girls invite me to participate.”

Skye sighed and relaxed against him, turned her head against his chest and closed her eyes, listening to the slow _thumpthump_ of his heart under her ear. Jean’s fingers were deft and light, barely skimming Skye’s skin as she removed her boots and socks, eased her jeans down… Skye felt Scott’s pulse jump and smiled without opening her eyes.

“Mm, lovely,” it was Jean who spoke, her voice a little husky as she removed Skye’s panties as well, danced her fingers along Skye’s slim thighs. Lowering her head, she began to kiss along Skye’s inner thigh, parting them slowly.

Scott’s chest tremored as he let out a low groan. “So beautiful,” he murmured, and Skye felt his pectoral muscles shift against the back of her head. “Show her, Jean, show her how beautiful you find her…”

Jean hummed, working slowly up Skye’s thighs. “You should play with those pretty breasts, Scott.”

“My hands…”

Jean paused, arched an eyebrow at him. “You might fool Skye, but you don’t fool me, darling. You wiggled your hands free just then.”

“Did you really?” Skye twisted sideways a little to look up at him, saw him grin sheepishly.

“I don’t like being restrained,” he confessed. “I won’t touch if you don’t want me to…”

“But I _do_ want you to,” she whispered, arching as Jean’s lips reached her groin and began to kiss softly around her mons. “Touch me, Scott…”

He didn’t wait to be asked twice, strong arms folding around her middle for a hug before he moved his hands apart and cupped them over her breasts, flicking lightly at her nipples.

Jean watched, smiling, still placing slow, open-mouthed kisses around Skye’s groin, never quite coming close to where Skye wanted her. She hummed with frustration, reached to run her hands into Jean’s silky red hair and tug gently, trying to bring the other woman closer. Jean laughed, a clear bell-like sound, and then suddenly dived in, mouth covering Skye’s clit and labia, her tongue flicking wickedly. At the same moment Scott’s fingers tightened on her nipples, plucking firmly, and a throaty moan burst from Skye.

“Good,” Scott praised, “that’s good…” he twisted her nipples carefully, assessing just the level of pressure she liked, watching her reactions. Jean was working over her clit, tracing her tongue around, learning the uniqueness of Skye’s shape and texture.

A soft lassitude began to permeate Skye’s body, a sense that all her cares and worries were falling away. It was coming from Jean, the feeling, she was sure; and it was blissful. She felt Scott’s chest shift behind her as he let out a soft, contented sigh, and realised he was feeling it too. His big hands stilled on her breasts for a moment before setting to work again, massaging and tantalising.

They built her up slowly between them, not edging, just taking their time to bring her up to the peak, and then catching her as she shattered, crying out and shaking in between them, Jean moving up over her to hold her close, safely sandwiched between her soulmates, their kisses loving as they whispered words of praise and adoration.

At last Skye blinked her eyes open and smiled dreamily at Jean, who smiled back. Breast to breast, Jean’s soft skin a wonderful feeling against her own, Scott’s warmth and muscular strength against her back; Skye had never felt so good in her life.

“I want to see you two together,” she murmured to Jean, who chuckled.

“You can have anything you want, but seriously? We’ve been monogamous for years until you came along; you’ll think we’re so boring.”

“No, you’re both so beautiful,” Skye denied instinctively.

Scott pressed a kiss to her temple. “We are not leaving you out. Not your first time with us, not ever.”

“I like to watch,” she confessed, and both Scott and Jean laughed.

“Of course you do. You’re our soulmate. We both like watching as well,” Jean admitted, her eyes shining.

“Mm hm,” Scott agreed, his hands still warm over Skye’s breasts. “Watching you come like that was so hot,” he murmured against Skye’s hair. “I could never get tired of seeing you two together.”

Skye smiled, wiggled deliberately. “Want to make sure you both have some fun too.”

“Oh,” Jean gave her a sultry smile, “I’m already having fun.” Deliberately, she rocked her hips against Skye, rubbing her crotch over Skye’s thigh.

“Mm,” Skye agreed, feeling slick dampness against her skin. She tugged gently on Jean’s hair, brought the redhead in close for a passionate kiss, smiled against Jean’s soft lips as she heard Scott groan behind her. “Come on. You two together. Please,” she pulled back after a long kiss.

Jean smiled at her in agreement, and Scott let her go a little reluctantly. They parted only long enough for Skye to twist around and reach to unzip Scott’s jeans, already hanging low on his lean hips. Bending her head, she traced her tongue down one side of the V-shaped groove of his pelvis, smiled as his hips bucked.

“He’s ticklish just there,” Jean advised, and Skye mercilessly abused that insider tip, swooping in with stiffened fingertips and tickling Scott until he squeaked in a most unmanly fashion before twisting over and grabbing Skye’s hands, pinning them above her head. His sunglasses shifted loose from his face as they wrestled, and he grabbed them to toss aside impatiently.

His eyes were closed, and Skye lifted her hand to trace her fingertips gently over his eyes. Scott sighed softly, turning his head and kissing her palm, sucking her finger into his mouth.

“So handsome,” Skye whispered softly. “What colour were your eyes before, Scott?”

“Blue,” he murmured around her finger.

“The brightest cobalt blue you ever saw,” Jean corrected. “Looked amazing with his dark hair. I’ve seen photos.”

Scott didn’t say anything, but a blush faintly touched his high cheekbones. Skye gently traced her fingers over them before reaching up to kiss him. She felt movement above her, realised Jean was easing Scott’s jeans off. His erection fell thick and heavy against her thigh as they kissed deeply, and she couldn’t help but shift upwards against it, wanting to feel him inside her.

“Where are your marks?” Jean asked then, making Skye pull back from Scott.

“My butt,” she admitted, “and the back of my shoulder.”

“Huhhh,” Scott grunted, hips jerking against her, “ _fuuck_.”

“Why…?” puzzled by the reaction, Skye looked sideways at Jean, who smirked.

“Scott’s mark for you is on his groin. For me, on his chest.”

Skye nodded; she’d seen the simple words just below Scott’s collarbone. _Hello, I’m Jean_.

“And mine are both on my left leg. Yours on the back of my calf, his on the sole of my foot.”

“Oh,” Skye’s eyes went wide as saucers as she realised the position they’d have to be in, and then she echoed Scott’s moan of arousal. “Oh God, yes, _please_.”

“I thought you wanted to watch?” Jean said, a gentle thread of amusement in her voice.

“Later - please, I want to bond,” Skye begged, realising that since Jean and Scott had been together for so long without a complete bond, they must have held together through sheer determination alone. If she could give them that bond, could be the permanent glue binding them all - plus the very idea of making love like that… she moaned again, clutching at Scott’s shoulder with one hand, her other reaching out to Jean.

Scott chuckled quietly. “You have no idea how much I hoped you’d say that.” He shifted back off her, eyes still closed. “Do you want me to use a condom? Jean and I don’t, we’ve been monogamous for years though, and I’m happy to if you want me…”

“No,” Skye shook her head, “I’m already sure that Coulson’s seen your medical records to check up on you,” she smiled wryly, “and would have let me know if there was anything I needed to be concerned about. And I have an implant, so there’s no worry about pregnancy.” She reached out, stroked a teasing caress along the length of Scott’s cock, thumbing the slit lightly, feeling him shudder. “I want to feel _all_ of you,” she whispered.

“Hell, yes,” he agreed huskily, “and I need to see this… Jean, where…?”

His sunglasses were in his hand before he’d even finished the question, and Scott smiled his thanks, sitting back on his haunches to put them on. Smiling wider as Jean settled back against the pillows beside Skye, turning in towards her, putting a long-fingered hand against her cheek and kissing her long and slow.

Scott just sat back and watched in silence, stroking his cock slowly, staring as the two stunning women before him kissed and caressed each other, soft fingers stroking sleek skin, Skye’s hands wonderingly exploring Jean’s body, cupping her rounded breasts, plucking lightly at auburn nipples until Jean moaned and shivered.

“Lie back,” Skye requested finally, and Jean obeyed with a smile, relaxing back against the pillows as Skye grabbed one and tucked it under Jean’s hips, lifting her up.

Scott’s hands curved over Skye’s backside as she knelt between Jean’s legs, reaching to part red curls with her fingertips, stroking slowly up through the hot, moist cleft awaiting her, lightly flicking Jean’s labia apart before leaning in and slipping her tongue over the hard little bud of Jean’s clitoris.

Jean moaned throatily as Skye licked again, pressing lightly with her fingertips so the hood slipped back, exposing the tiny glistening pearl. Skye hummed with pleasure; Jean tasted good, fresh and clean, like vanilla and strawberries; probably just her body wash but very much to Skye’s taste. She pushed her tongue deeper down into the opening of Jean’s vagina, using her upper lip to keep teasing Jean’s clit - and made a strangled sound as Scott’s cock slid between her own thighs.

“Beautiful,” Scott said hoarsely, gazing down at Skye’s dark head buried between Jean’s thighs, at her rounded bottom sticking up in the air, his words black against the smooth, flawless curve. His hands tightened on her hips and he thrust between her thighs a time or two, feeling her juices coating his cock.

Skye made a pleading sound even as Jean moaned loudly, and Scott began to feel a sudden unexpected heat; realised that Jean was losing control of her power, was beginning to project her own feelings onto the two of them. He groaned low in his chest, realising that this wasn’t going to last long, that he needed to move quickly if they wanted to complete the bond. Fitting the tip of his cock against Skye’s soaked pussy, he pressed slowly home, taking quick, shallow breaths as slippery wet muscles clenched firmly around him.

“Oh fuck you’re tight,” he almost sobbed it, felt Jean whisper into his mind _“It’s been a long time, be gentle.”_

His groin met Skye’s ass as he pushed deep, doing his best to be gentle, to take it slowly despite how much he wanted to slam home. He felt the moment when their words met, felt the same kind of low-level buzz he got with Jean, the bond trying to form but unable to without all parties participating. Reaching down, he grabbed Jean’s ankle and lifted it, bringing her calf up over Skye’s shoulder and pulling the sole of her foot against his chest.

Skye moaned against Jean as the other woman’s leg landed on her shoulder, opening the angle up better for Skye’s mouth; she added a finger sliding in and out of Jean’s soaked tunnel as Scott began to move. She could feel the bond coming to life with every stroke inside her, with every gasp and moan from Jean’s mouth.

Scott moaned her name and Skye shuddered, feeling heat coiling in the pit of her belly - and another odd sensation, like an overlay of her own feelings. It took several moments for her lust-addled brain to realised that it had to be Jean, projecting mentally, probably completely unintentionally.

“Crook your fingers,” Scott told her, his voice low, “just two… she loves that.”

Skye could feel Jean’s own climax rising as she lapped and suckled at her clit, crooking her fingers inside her as Scott had suggested to fondle her G-spot. Through the steadily strengthening bond she could sense Scott too, dimly as yet, but definitely there in the back of her mind alongside Jean.

“So fucking good,” Scott rasped, and both women moaned in agreement, Skye letting out a little sob as he worked a hand around in front of her and between her legs, scissoring her clit between long, clever fingers.

“Come on me,” Scott pleaded then, “want to feel you, want to see Jean come on your mouth…”

“Yes,” Jean panted, her hips shifting as Skye’s fingers and tongue worked her, “oh yes, oh _please…_ ” her whole body seized then, muscles clenching around Skye’s fingers as she cried out, and a fraction of a second later a blast of mental ecstasy washed through all three of them.

Skye and Scott, close to the edge already, were utterly helpless against Jean’s power; both of them carried along with her on the wave, screaming wordlessly as the bond strengthened immeasurably, creating a feedback loop that rocketed around the three of them, sustaining the mutual climax longer than any of them might have thought possible.

Skye ended up with her forehead resting on Jean’s stomach, Jean’s long fingers carding gently through her hair. Scott’s hands were firm on her stomach, supporting her weight; she could feel the tenderness in his hold, though, the loving affection through the bond, and couldn’t keep the smile from her face as he slowly eased out of her and lay down on the bed, leaving a space between himself and Jean for Skye to flop ungracefully into.

Two pairs of loving arms enfolded her, two minds wrapped her in warmth and care, and she couldn’t keep the tears from her eyes as she realised that finally, at long last, she was right where she was supposed to be.

She was _home_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This was my first attempt at writing any kind of f/f smut, and thank you so much to LadyWinterlight and Nerdykat for cheerleading and beta-ing me through it while I panicked!**
> 
> **(And yes, I know there’s a guy involved, but still. I’m working my way up to pure f/f. I’ll get there!)**
> 
> **Next up will be Skye/Peter Parker which has had a HUGE amount of votes since the beginning. I’m not confident I’ll get Peter’s ‘voice’ right, but then I’m thinking _he’ll_ be not-confident anyway. Voted for by:**
> 
> **dwyn5002, TheRipplingWave, Suuuuuper, limerentluna, EllaC, Techbeck, Kat, Val9, sagebows, Liles217, Dragon-Wolf-Mustang Rider, Maeleana, Kristina’sMyName, darklou91, selene2, Liss_Howlett, theLadyCheshire, BTRlover2211, CassidyFisher415, virgo13, PurplePeopleEater, Yasmania, Roars, hellodaydreamer, MissNikki2U, demon’s purity, DominaUmbra666, SarahJaneDoctor, lillyrosenight, kornas, sankrisid23, Silent Phantom gal, WeAreStarFox, lightofwonderlands, Beatrice Diggory, lonestar40k, SunnyDelight, X-Random-X, CassidyFisher415, lexyawen, kornas and Myka-Delte!**
> 
> **A few new ships got added to the voting list too, so check them out in the next chapter :)**
> 
> **Don’t forget to come back to THIS chapter to vote, my dears! And please tell me what you thought as well!**


	22. Skye/Peter Parker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Continues on from[Did Someone Break Gravity?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/5960276) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As voted for by dwyn5002, TheRipplingWave, Suuuuuper, limerentluna, EllaC, Techbeck, Kat, Val9, sagebows, Liles217, Dragon-Wolf-Mustang Rider, Maeleana, Kristina’sMyName, darklou91, selene2, Liss_Howlett, theLadyCheshire, BTRlover2211, CassidyFisher415, virgo13, PurplePeopleEater, Yasmania, Roars, hellodaydreamer, MissNikki2U, demon’s purity, DominaUmbra666, SarahJaneDoctor, lillyrosenight, kornas, sankrisid23, Silent Phantom gal, WeAreStarFox, lightofwonderlands, Beatrice Diggory, lonestar40k, SunnyDelight, X-Random-X, CassidyFisher415, lexyawen, kornas and Myka-Delte!**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _AU from, probably the end of S1. Skye doesn’t have powers. And obviously, this is not MCU!Spidey who’s apparently supposed to be about 15 when he appears in Civil War._

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/spidey_zpsphq32pps.jpg.html)

 

 

_This beautiful fanvid made by[martinnas](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCY6m2GGeHDKmjy18gcuzWQA) and embedded here with permission._

They’d barely been kissing for more than a few seconds when the com in Skye’s ear crackled to life, Coulson shouting her name loud enough to make her wince and Peter pull back and grin down at her.

“Sounds like someone’s worried about you.”

“Coulson, he’s my boss,” Skye glanced at the gun webbed to the wall. “I don’t suppose I could get my gun back, please?”

He sighed and pulled the webbing off the gun, catching it easily as it fell from the wall and turning back to her. He was standing very close as he slipped the gun back into her thigh holster and Skye found her breath coming quickly as she looked up into bright blue eyes.

Peter’s lips were descending towards hers again when there was a sharp cough at the end of the corridor. Startled, Skye whipped her head around to see May, standing there staring at her.

There was a low-voiced “ _Fuck_ ,” in her ear, and by the time Skye looked back, he’d jerked his mask back on.

“It’s okay, that’s May…” she started, but he was already running, fast enough to make her blink, gone down the hallway and into a stairwell before she could even shout _don’t go_.

May stared at her, one delicate eyebrow raised, when Skye turned to her. “Please tell me I didn’t just see you kissing Spider-Man.”

“I thought you didn’t like it when I lied to you?” Skye cheeked back, and May rolled her eyes before tapping her com.

“Phil, she’s fine. Stop panicking. Seems she was rescued by our friendly neighborhood web-slinger.”

Phil degenerated into incoherent squawks at that, making May roll her eyes and Skye hastily tap her com on. “He’s my soulmate!”

“That’s not actually going to help the situation,” May said dryly as they headed for the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you know how many twenty-one year old guys there are in New York named Peter?” Skye spun around on her stool and stared at Jemma, who carefully kept her head turned away so that Skye wouldn’t see her roll her eyes.

“Lots, I expect. You don’t know his exact date of birth?”

“No,” Skye moodily chewed on her thumbnail. “I was four, in foster care. I remember I was sent back to the orphanage a few weeks later, so it was in either the March or April of that year, from the records… but that doesn’t narrow it down enough.” Crossly, she leant back and put her feet up on the desk, sighing deeply. “I don’t know. I just - how will I find him? And it’s not like he can find me. I don’t even _have_ a proper identity, everything I _did_ have I erased from existence when SHIELD fell!”

“He _is_ Spider-Man,” Jemma spun her chair to face Skye. “Maybe you should just _let_ him find you.”

Skye’s brow furrowed. “How do you mean?”

“Go walk around New York. I’m sure you can research the areas he frequents,” Jemma waved vaguely at Skye’s bank of computers.

Skye’s eyes widened, and then she scrambled up and threw her arms around her friend. “Simmons, you’re a genius!”

“I know,” Jemma patted her back. “Now will you please be quiet so I can get on with work?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_I think I may have made a slight tactical error…_

Walking around Queens after dark might not have been the smartest move she’d ever made, Skye realised. She was being followed, and not by her soulmate, either. By three large guys, making no attempt to conceal the fact that they were going after her, their voices loud and confident, boots striking hard on the pavement as they steadily caught up to her despite her fast walking pace.

She had an ICER in her pocket, ten rounds in it. She wasn’t scared. But pulling a gun in the open might attract more attention than she wanted, so Skye made a hard left when she saw a narrow alley coming up, and started running. She wanted to get to the end of the alley and give herself plenty of room to take the guys down; while she was getting more confident in her hand-to-hand skills they were very large…

“You really do have no instinct for self-preservation,” a low voice said just above her head, and she looked up.

“Says the one who likes to jump off tall buildings,” Skye snarked back.

“With a way of catching myself. Come on.” He leaped down to land lightly beside her. “Let me take care of those assholes…”

“I can do that very nicely myself, thank you,” she replied, and pulled the trigger three times in rapid succession.

“Please tell me those aren’t real bullets,” Peter pulled his mask up and stared in horror at the three fallen men.

“They’re ICERs, non-lethal.”

“That’s good.” He smiled down at her. “Were you looking for someone?”

“You know damn well I was,” she grumped, putting the ICER away and moving towards him. He grinned, pulled the mask down and wrapped an arm around her.

“I’ve always dreamed of sweeping a girl off her feet…”

“Oh _no_ ,” she hid her face against his shoulder as the world tilted and swooped upwards and sideways at dizzying speed.

Fortunately, it didn’t last very long. They landed on a rooftop and he set her on her feet gently, taking her hand and leading her towards the stairs even as he pulled his mask off.

“Where are we?” she looked around curiously.

“My place. It’s not much,” he said apologetically, letting them into the first apartment at the foot of the stairs, “but it’s convenient for what I do.”

It was basically a tiny little studio apartment, with a small two-seater couch facing an old TV, a miniature kitchenette, and a double bed shoved into the far corner. A small door beside that led into what Skye could easily see was a cramped bathroom.

The place was small, but neat and meticulously clean. Smiling to herself, Skye wandered around, looking at Peter’s things. There were several pieces of photography equipment laying on a desk beside the couch, including a rather good camera. She looked at them curiously but didn’t touch.

“My day job,” Peter admitted. “I’m a photojournalist.”

Her eyes widened and she spun around. “Peter - _Parker_?”

He had the grace to blush and look embarrassed.

“Holy shit no _wonder_ you get all the Spider-Man exclusives - you _are_ Spider-Man!” She looked at the equipment again, noting the remote, the timer, the expensive tripod. “God _damn_ that’s clever. How could anyone suspect the guy who takes the _pictures_ of the superhero, of being the superhero himself?”

Peter ducked his head, but she could see his smile. “It’s worked pretty well so far.” He shrugged those surprisingly broad shoulders. “Um, I’ll just get out of the suit,” he gestured towards the bathroom, “but please, make yourself at home…”

“Oh, don’t do that,” Skye said, walking towards him with a wicked grin. “I’ve been having fantasies about peeling you out of that suit.”

Blue eyes widened. “You… have?” He sounded young and very uncertain all of a sudden.

“Hell, yes,” she placed a finger in the centre of his chest, trailed it downwards slowly, looking up at him through long black lashes. “Several times.”

His pupils blew wide, his lips parting, and he licked them. “Um,” appeared to be the limit of his vocabulary just then, making Skye grin, pleased that she’d managed to throw him so thoroughly.

“So how does it come off then?” she asked in a sultry tone. “It’s very… _tight…_ ”

“Constricting,” Peter agreed, his voice rather higher than normal, making her glance down instinctively. Her eyes widened.

“Oh my, that looks - um…” _Impressive_ , Skye thought, biting down on her lower lip to avoid blurting that out loud. “Uncomfortable,” she settled for. “Let me help you.”

She’d never have gotten him out of it if he hadn’t helped, though his hands were shaking as he peeled the tight fabric off his body, his eyes hungry as he looked at her. More than a little impressed by the solidly defined musculature revealed as he took the suit off, Skye drank him in eagerly with her eyes.

Peter was wearing a pair of lycra cycling shorts under the suit, a very obvious bulge in the front telling Skye just how happy he was to see her. No amount of thinking about icy water was going to help, he realised dismally, not when she was looking at him as though she wanted to eat him alive.

_Shit, Petey, don’t think about that…_ he was standing in front of her in just his underwear, and he was quite sure his skin was blushing from head to toe.

“Very nice,” Skye murmured appreciatively, and then she glanced up at Peter and slowly, deliberately, unzipped her jacket.

Eyes glued to her hands, he swallowed hard, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as Skye disrobed for him, down to a bra and panty set that nearly made him swallow his tongue. Dark blue and gold satin, it outlined and enhanced her curves to perfection.

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he breathed, awestruck. “Are you sure…?”

“Peter, I’ve been dreaming of finding my soulmate ever since I knew what my mark meant,” Skye said quietly, and she took his hand and led him to the bed. He followed unresistingly, taking the opportunity to eye the back view in awe, before they reached the bed and he found himself pushed to sit on the edge of it with Skye straddling his lap, her fingers running into his curly hair and gripping tight as she kissed him.

“Umf umm mmm,” he said into her mouth, and she chuckled, pulling back briefly.

“Now really isn’t the time for you to find your voice, Peter.”

“I’m just thinking that this is a really good dream and I don’t want to wake up,” he confessed, winding a long strand of dark brown hair around his fingers, mesmerised by the silken texture of it.

“If it’s a dream,” Skye pushed on his shoulders, tipping him back onto the bed, “I’m in it with you.” And she reached behind her and unhooked her bra.

Peter almost swallowed his tongue. “Fuck _me_.”

“Well, I was planning to do just that,” Skye said with a laugh and a raised eyebrow, thinking how adorable he looked with that furious red blush spreading across his face.

“I didn’t mean - I meant…”

“I’m pretty sure I know what you meant.” She reached for his hands, long-fingered, capable hands, brought them up to her breasts. Paused. “You - _have_ done this before? Right?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, I have, just…” Peter shook his head, unable to look away from her breasts. “Never with anyone even close to being as beautiful as you are,” he told her with heartfelt emotion, and Skye smiled softly.

“You are so sweet.” She licked her finger, traced it deliberately down between his pecs. His hands curved around her breasts, hesitant at first, then more confident as she sighed and leaned into his touch.

Peter was still wondering if this was some kind of really amazing dream. It seemed too fantastic to be real, that Skye was here in his tiny apartment, and not only that but kneeling astride his thighs, her eyes drifting closed as he massaged her nipples between his fingers, tugging them to firm peaks. She moaned, her fingers pressing into his skin, and leaned down to kiss him, soft hair tumbling across his shoulder.

Suddenly he wanted more, wanted to see her writhing beneath him as he pleasured her. Tensing, he flipped them quickly, grinning at Skye’s slight squeak of shock and the way she clutched at his shoulders, humming approvingly as she tested the muscles there. “This okay?” he checked, pausing to kiss her lips before moving downwards.

“Oh yes,” she agreed enthusiastically as he kissed down her throat, strong hands still caressing her breasts. “Ahh,” as his mouth closed on one peaked nipple, tugging gently with his teeth before suckling firmly, making her arch up and moan, her hands sliding over his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair, holding him against her.

Peter made eager sounds as he explored Skye’s breasts, finding the spots and the pressure that made the intensity of her moans increase, her fingers tighten in his hair, her hips rock against him. Although that particular action made his arousal increase as well, as her thigh rubbed between his own. Her skin was so unbelievably soft against his, smooth and sleek; he wanted to taste every inch of her.

“Peter,” Skye panted his name, “please…”

He thrilled to hear his name on her lips, to hear her pleading for more in that husky tone. “Anything you want,” he murmured, kissing lower as she pressed lightly on his head. “Anything at all.”

Skye sighed with pleasure as Peter’s fingers eased her panties down ahead of his eager mouth, as he slipped them off her and parted her legs, settling between them and glancing up at her with one brow raised, asking silent permission to continue. She chuckled at the very idea that she might refuse, and he grinned back and dived in hungrily, his tongue working over her clit with both enthusiasm and a fair degree of skill.

Skye made lovely little noises as he worshipped her with his mouth and hands, tracing lightly around her wet entrance before easing one long finger gently inside, following it with a second and then a third before crooking them and wiggling his fingertips in a tickling motion. She came right up off the bed, a strangled sound in her throat, nails ripping at the sheets, juices overflowing his mouth and dribbling down his chin.

Peter lapped thirstily, drinking her up, tongue and fingers gentler now as she shivered with aftershocks of the climax, her head falling back. He never stopped, though, and she had to grab at his hair and pull him up when she felt herself start to rise towards another peak.

“Peter - you got a condom?” she managed to pant out, looking up into his blue eyes.

He nodded, was about to ask if she was sure, when he realised she was the one who’d asked. So instead he reached over to the nightstand and yanked the drawer open, fumbled inside for a moment. Gasped as he realised Skye had wrapped her legs around his waist and deftly hooked her toes into the waistband of his shorts, tugging them down.

“Hey, it’s me who’s supposed to have the preternaturally flexible fingers and toes,” he joked, wiggling the shorts further down and off.

Skye grinned. “I don’t know about toes, but I’ll vouch for your fingers.” She leaned up on her elbows, looking as he sat back on his heels to roll the condom on. “Hell- _ohhhh_ ,” she grinned at the sight of his cock, thick and curving upwards, straining eagerly towards her. “And I’m hoping you know what to do with that, too.”

“I hope you’ll think so,” he smiled down at her, still awed by how stunning she was, how lovely she looked lying there flushed from orgasm, nude and eager for him. Skye laughed and beckoned to him, hooking her arms around his neck and drawing him in for a kiss; he hesitated, wondered if she’d mind that his mouth tasted of her. She showed no sign of it, though, kissing him eagerly as her strong legs drew him in.

“Oh God,” Peter mumbled as he slid slowly, slickly into Skye’s welcoming body. He gazed down, transfixed by the sight of her sucking him in, of her slender thighs wrapping around him. He caught a glimpse of black writing on the back of her left thigh as she bent her knees right back, realised that the words would correspond with the ones wrapping around his right hip onto his ass.

Quickly, he slipped his hand under her knee, holding her leg away from his body. “Wait, Skye,” he gasped out when she mewled and resisted. “We’d bond…”

“But I want that!” she gazed up at him from needy eyes, and then hesitated. “You… don’t?”

“I do, more than anything!” he kissed her again.

“Then _please_ ,” her small hand tugged at his arm. “Bond with me, Peter - neither of us have to be alone any more…”

She _got_ him, he suddenly realised; they’d plunged into this headlong without time to talk, get to know each other, but it didn’t matter. They were _soulmates_ , born for each other; Skye almost certainly shared many of his personality traits, good and bad. _Never to be lonely again_ , he thought, and took his hand off her leg, wrapping it around behind her thigh instead, pulling it against his hip as he pressed deeper inside her.

Skye gasped as their marks met, as Peter’s cock filled her, his groin grinding against hers as he leaned in for another kiss. An incredible warmth began to seep through her body, originating from her mark and spreading outwards, part sexual pleasure and part something else, the bond growing steadily between them as Peter moved deep inside her.

“So good,” Peter moaned into Skye’s mouth, half-mad with pleasure, trying desperately to hold out, to bring her to a second orgasm before he lost it. Her nails dug into his shoulders, anchoring him briefly to reality, long enough for him to focus and set up a rhythm of deep, driving thrusts.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Skye chanted mindlessly as he pushed her higher; clinging to him, she revelled in his youthful, virile enthusiasm, his strength and vigor. “Peter!” His name was a shriek as she came for a second time.

Peter lost his rhythm as Skye clenched around him, his hips jerking in a stuttering motion once, twice more before hot gushes of seed blasted up his cock, filling the condom. Skye moaned and twitched around him as he pulsed inside her, clinging to him body and soul, their minds wide open to each other in that moment of utter abandon.

Slowly, wonderingly, he caressed her cheek with a shaking, slightly sweaty hand. She turned her head, smiling, kissed at his fingers.

“Mm, that was amazing,” Skye sighed, stretching languorously as Peter slipped carefully out of her, pushed himself to his feet.

“I could use a lot more adjectives, but yeah, amazing about sums it up,” he smiled down at her before heading into the bathroom.

Chilled after a moment, Skye tugged up the duvet she was lying on, slipped beneath it. Peter came back and seemed to hesitate, but she flipped up the side of the duvet in a beckoning gesture and he smiled, climbed in beside her. Immediately she snuggled close to his side, laid her head on his chest and sighed contentedly.

Tentatively at first, but then more firmly, Peter wrapped his arm around her, feeling her warm breath flowing against his chest. For long minutes they lay in contented silence, exploring each other through the newly-formed bond, until finally Skye propped herself up on an elbow to look down at him, her hair tumbling silkily across his shoulder making him shiver with a renewed shock of pleasure.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “for saving me.”

Peter smiled at her, stroking her hair. “I’m very, very glad I did.” He no longer regretted the path that had led him to becoming Spider-Man. Because without it, he wouldn’t have been there to save Skye when she fell off that roof. This was his destiny; had been from the moment of his birth when his parents puzzled over and then shrugged off his words as someone’s idea of a joke.

_Did someone break gravity?_

“I can’t break gravity,” he murmured, leaning up to kiss Skye, “but for you, I’ll defy it any time, angel.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next up will be Bucky/Jemma/Steve, which built up a BIG lead over the rest with a lot of votes, from MsLane19, Selene Aduial, LovelyGirl51, jdho2, TheVorpalQueen, SnowNox554, Luna064, Casper22, Omoidashu, stuartzomboy, rebakathy, Cateyes1401, Greennonmonster, AngloAnon, starfish.dancer, bla, Lia, stevie, mnemosynes_tears, MerciaLachesis, cheate, mariisawsume123, Colton45, Jenpa, TheGirlWhoLovedTooEasily, jagdoc09, KLB, Ishaqzaade, AwesomeSauce220, paksiegurlie, JayjeHotchner, 12GaugeRedHead, spitfire303, ShineeFan101amg, Cateyes1401, queenmidalah, krazykat00, Vassy11, nyxdtd, nobutsiriuslywhat, MCUFan34, Tmikage, JayjeHotchner, Artemis_Day, r_blok, XXfairy_lightXx, dramamama7905, MissNikki2U and lillyrosenight!**
> 
>  
> 
> Check out the voting list in the next chapter, but don’t forget to come back to THIS chapter to vote, my dears! And please tell me what you thought of the story as well, I'm especially interested to hear from the folks who voted for a particular ship to be written, to see if it lived up to their expectations!  
>  
> 
> **I make no promises about WHEN that one will go up since I have to move house in 3 weeks, but I AM quietly working on it, promise!**
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> 
>  


	23. Steve/Bucky/Jemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Follows on from[Chapter 21, Don’t Touch Him](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/6179033)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As voted for by MsLane19, Selene Aduial, LovelyGirl51, jdho2, TheVorpalQueen, SnowNox554, Luna064, Casper22, Omoidashu, stuartzomboy, rebakathy, Cateyes1401, Greennonmonster, AngloAnon, starfish.dancer, bla, Lia, stevie, mnemosynes_tears, MerciaLachesis, cheate, mariisawsume123, Colton45, Jenpa, TheGirlWhoLovedTooEasily, jagdoc09, KLB, Ishaqzaade, AwesomeSauce220, paksiegurlie, JayjeHotchner, 12GaugeRedHead, spitfire303, ShineeFan101amg, Cateyes1401, queenmidalah, krazykat00, Vassy11, nyxdtd, nobutsiriuslywhat, MCUFan34, Tmikage, JayjeHotchner, Artemis_Day, r_blok, XXfairy_lightXx, dramamama7905, MissNikki2U and lillyrosenight!**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/steve%20shirtless_zpstsqcdmpz.jpg.html)[](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Sebastian%20Stan/holy%20shit_zps7ukx9v7b.jpg.html)

 

It was about a week before Jemma got to spend any time with either of her soulmates in any semblance of privacy. Bucky was staying in the Vault for now due to its being impermeable to any remote signals, until Fitz and Mack had time to run complete diagnostics on his arm, and it was a good thing they did since they found four different trackers and a remote kill-switch in it, plus a couple of other wireless receivers they weren't even sure what they were for. Bucky took to Fitz quickly and allowed the younger, smaller man to tinker with his arm, removing the unwanted parts and carefully reconditioning everything. Impressed with the tech and in awe of Bucky and Steve both, Fitz always seemed to be in the Vault whenever Jemma was down there, and if it wasn't Fitz it was Coulson or May, talking to both men about Hydra.

Jemma was eating a rather lonely late dinner in the kitchen one night when the stool beside hers at the breakfast bar slid out. Glancing up, she almost choked on her mouthful of fried rice as Steve sat down.

"Easy there," he patted her very carefully on the back, slid her water glass towards her. "Didn't mean to startle you."

"No, I... okay I was pretty shocked," she admitted after a gulp of water.

Steve's blue eyes crinkled adorably at the corners when he smiled, she discovered. Her stomach turned a few somersaults and she laid her fork down carefully. "Are you hungry? There's more of this in the fridge, I could heat some up..."

He shook his head. "Thanks, but I already ate. I just... Fitz told me where you were, he's tinkering with Buck's arm again, so I thought I'd come and see you. Spend some time with you." He ducked his head, and Jemma realised to her astonishment that the tips of his ears were turning pink.

 _He's blushing. Steve Rogers,_ Captain America, _is blushing at the thought of spending time alone with me._

"How nice," she said squeakily, feeling her own cheeks beginning to flush.

They sat and blushed at each other for an awkward moment. “Please, don’t let me interrupt your meal,” Steve mumbled finally.

She’d completely lost her appetite, butterflies churning in her stomach at his closeness. At the way his _arm_ looked as he leaned on the breakfast bar, thickly muscled as it emerged from the sleeve of his tight T-shirt. And really, did he always have to wear T-shirts that tight?

“I don’t like this new fad for baggy clothes,” Steve said, and Jemma realised that she’d fallen back into her awful habit of speaking her thoughts aloud.

“Well there's baggy and then there’s just showing off,” she said thoughtlessly, saw Steve blush redder. “I - I’m not complaining about the view! Oh Lord.”

His smile was shy but rather cheeky, if such a thing were possible. “Well, women dress to show off their best features. You wear things that show off your tiny waist and your slim legs.”

“I - well, that’s just fashion!” Jemma looked away from his knowing look, from the laughter in his blue eyes.

“I’m not complaining about the view either, believe me.” Steve’s voice was low and earnest. She peeped back at him, saw him gazing at her, a slight smile curving his mouth. His expression was warm and genuine - he was just too pretty to be real. Somehow she managed to keep from blurting _that_ out. They were staring at each other in silent, mutual admiration when Jemma’s phone beeped.

“Damn,” she muttered, checking it. “I have to get back to the lab. I’ve been running some diagnostic tests, they should be about finished.”

Steve stood as she did, smiled. “Um, before you go, Jemma…”

“Yes?” she looked up at him, smiling shyly.

“Buck asked me to give ya sumthin’ from him.” His Brooklyn accent was stronger, suddenly.

“Oh, what…” she was cut off as Steve’s big hand cupped her cheek and he bent to kiss her, warm lips soft and searching against hers. She was just relaxing into the kiss when Steve lifted his head, stepping back, his cheeks pinkening again. Jemma stared at him, wide-eyed, before suddenly smiling.

“Well, that was a very nice gift for Bucky to send me. Here,” she stepped closer, reached up to curl her hand around the back of Steve’s neck and pull his face down to hers. “Give this back to him for me, would you?”

Steve’s eyes were glazed when she let him up for air. “If I give that to Buck,” he had to stop and lick his lips, “it’s - well, I don’t think I’ll be able to walk straight tomorrow.”

Jemma giggled at that, her eyes bright. “Well. I should like to see that.”

His eyes widened, pupils dilating with shock and lust. “You want to watch me and Buck…?”

“No!” she gasped. “Well, yes, but… that’s not what I meant!” Oh God, she’d really talked herself into a hole now. Steve let out a small groan.

“Jemma, the thought of you watchin’ us…”

“Unf,” she quite agreed, and this time clung to him eagerly as he kissed her again, deep and hungry, backing her up against the kitchen bench, strong hands under her bottom lifting her to sit on it so that she was at a better height, could wrap her legs around his waist and pull him close against her.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” a deep voice made them both startle and pull apart, and they looked around to see Mack silhouetted in the doorway, arms folded across his broad chest, frowning sternly at them. “We have to _eat_ on that, guys!” he said reproachfully, nodding towards the counter.

“I’ll disinfect it,” Steve promised a bit sheepishly as Jemma turned cherry-red and hid her face against his shoulder. She pushed at his chest and he stepped back a bit reluctantly, letting her slip off the counter. She glanced up at him from bright eyes before glancing at Mack and silently fleeing the scene.

“Lysol is under the sink,” Mack said snidely and Steve sighed and went to get the cleaning equipment out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following morning, Jemma was again alone in the kitchen eating her muesli when Steve came in. She couldn’t help but look to see if he was indeed walking oddly, and he caught her at it, lips curving in a broad grin as he walked around the counter to stand opposite her.

“I didn’t give your gift to Bucky.”

“Why not?” she asked, curious.

“Because he wanted you to deliver it in person, my котенок,” another voice said behind Jemma, startling her, but before she could turn around two arms had snaked around her, one metal hand latching onto the counter with a _clink_ , the other pressing tightly around her waist.

“You’re out of the Vault,” Jemma said stupidly, staring at the undeniable evidence of that metal arm in front of her.

“I am,” his voice was very close to her ear, she could actually feel the ends of his hair brushing her neck. “Fitz cleared my electronics, and Agent Morse gave me a clean bill of health, since you disqualified yourself as my medical professional.”

“I c-couldn’t be objective,” Jemma said, her voice high and breathy as his lips brushed the rim of her ear lightly.

“And after all your talk about putting your hands all over my naked body.”

Steve was leaning on the counter, watching them with a look on his face that Jemma could only describe as pure lust. She found herself sagging limply against Bucky.

“That would be - very - unprofessional,” she could barely think as he started to kiss her neck, his lips warm and soft, the tip of his tongue teasing her skin.

“We want to see you unprofessional,” Steve said, since Bucky’s mouth was otherwise occupied. “Want to see you out of those buttoned-up outfits you wear. Letting your hair down. Metaphorically, that is.”

She smiled at him, before letting out a little gasp as Bucky bit lightly at the tender skin just below her ear.

“Oh, for God’s sake _please_ will you get a room?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Giggling like kids caught necking, they fled Mack’s wrath - and somehow ended up in the accommodation corridor right outside Jemma’s room. She hesitated.

“I’d invite you in, but… my bed’s only a single.” Her face was flaming and she couldn’t look either of them in the eye by the time she’d finished speaking, examining the toes of her shoes intently instead.

“Ours isn’t,” Bucky’s voice was low, silky. “Your Director Coulson’s assigned us a lovely big room. Right in the far corner of the accommodation wing. Seems like he suspects we could get a mite noisy in there.”

Jemma pressed her hands to her cheeks in a vain effort to cool them down, already suspecting that she would need to learn to suppress her blushing reflex or spent all her time around Steve and Bucky permanently red-faced.

Bucky was standing close in front of her, and though she never heard him move, suddenly Steve was right there behind him, her shoulders touching his chest as his arm slipped around her waist.

“Come and test the soundproofing with us,” Bucky requested softly, and with that look in his eyes and Steve’s strong arm around her, Jemma had no hope of resisting, even if she’d wanted to. She followed Bucky, her feet almost on autopilot, leaning into Steve’s hold. Her eyes fixed on the way Bucky’s ass filled out his jeans.

“He’s got a very pretty ass,” Steve whispered in her ear, making her giggle and cover her mouth with her hand, looking up at him with her eyes sparkling.

“Does he always wear pants that tight?” she whispered.

Steve’s smile was a little sad. “He always did, yeah. Always liked to know I was looking.”

“Who am I to deny you the visual feast that is the sight of my ass in tight pants?” Bucky deadpanned without even looking back, making Steve and Jemma both laugh guiltily as they realised he’d heard every word. He opened a door and gestured them both inside with a gallant sweep of his arm.

It was one of the suites intended for senior officers at the base, Jemma realised, looking around. The Playground had been built for many more denizens than currently inhabited it, so there were plenty of rooms to choose from, and this one was very nicely furnished. With a very big bed.

Steve dropped his arm from around Jemma, and she looked up to see him biting his lip and looking uncharacteristically indecisive. “If you don’t want to - if you’re not ready, that is - it’s fine, Jemma, we don’t want you to think…”

She melted, seeing that look on his face. “I do want to. Very, very much.”

He beamed back at her, and Bucky, closing the door behind them and locking it, snorted. “Be gentle with him, Jemma. Punk here’s never had a girl.”

“What?” startled, Jemma glanced between the two of them. At Bucky, casually shucking his T-shirt and kicking off his boots, at Steve, red-faced and hanging his head. “You _haven’t_?”

“Not with a girl,” Steve shot Bucky a glare, but answered the question honestly. “Thought about it, even had the opportunity, but… I’m glad I waited for you, Jemma.”

His eyelashes were quite unfair, she thought inconsequentially, long and dark, sweeping down to feather on his cheeks as he looked down shyly. He was so much taller than her she really had no hope of kissing him if he resisted, but he bent to her gladly when she reached up to hook a hand around his neck and pull lightly.

“Damn,” Bucky murmured quietly, leaning back against the wall and staring at them. “You two sure do look good together.”

Steve’s arm curled around Jemma’s waist, lifted her gently from her feet. He moved to the bed and laid her down slowly, still kissing her, setting one knee on the bed beside her before lifting his head and looking over at Bucky.

“You gonna join in or just watch?”

“That’s up to our котенок. Both of us at once, might be a bit overwhelming, the first time.”

“It might indeed,” Jemma agreed breathily, “in fact, I’m counting on it.” She reached a hand out towards Bucky, her other one still buried in Steve’s thick blond hair. “Come over here and overwhelm me, Bucky.”

“What an invitation,” he breathed, coming to her outstretched hand as though drawn on a string, taking it in his and falling to his knees by the bed.

Steve started kissing Jemma’s neck, sucking the tender skin gently into his mouth, even as Bucky began to kiss her fingers, licking delicately over her fingertips, working his way down to paint wet circles over the palm of her hand. She shuddered and gasped as their mouths worked at her skin.

 

“Tell us if you like it, котенок,” Bucky murmured, kissing his way up the inside of her wrist, tracing the fine blue veins showing beneath her pale skin with his tongue.

“I think I’ll like anything you want to do to me,” Jemma gasped as Steve bit lightly at her collarbone. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him lower, and she felt him smile against her skin, even as his fingers began to carefully unfasten the buttons of her blouse.

“So pretty,” Steve whispered, “so fragile. Gotta be so careful with you, beautiful.”

She could feel them restraining their strength, careful not to bruise her delicate skin. Even Steve’s mouth was gentle as he kissed slowly along the upper edge of her bra cup.

“Please,” she whimpered, tugging on his hair. “More.”

“More what, doll?” It was Bucky who asked, metal fingers carefully easing the sleeve of her blouse down her arm.

“Don’t be - _too_ gentle.”

Steve paused, lifting his head to look at her. She gave him a pleading look in return. “I know you could really hurt me, and I don’t want that. But I don’t want you to treat me as though I’m made of glass, either. I like…” she couldn’t quite get the words out, not with Captain America, the representative of Truth and Justice, looking at her quizzically.

“You like a bit of rough?” Bucky murmured, tone rich with amusement.

“...yes.” Jemma was almost sure she’d see revulsion in Steve’s expression. She really didn’t expect his pupils to blow wide, his full lips to part as his tongue slipped out to caress them.

“What do you think, Stevie?” Bucky asked in that same amused tone. “Think we can give our little cat what she wants?”

Steve still hesitated. “Don’t want to risk hurting you, though,” he muttered, his fingers still tracing lightly over the upper slope of Jemma’s breast.

“It’ll be fine,” she pleaded, arching up into him. “Bucky…” she appealed to her other soulmate, who grinned.

“Don’t worry, котенок, I got you.” He nibbled on her inner arm, even as his metal hand reached up, hooking over the middle of her bra. The joints shifted, never so much as scraping her skin, but the delicate fabric shredded between the unyielding metal plates, the bra falling away.

Bucky made a guttural sound in his throat, his blue eyes never leaving Jemma’s as he leaned in and licked lightly at the tender flesh just below her nipple. She shivered with anticipation, watching him, seeing the promise in his gaze just before he sucked _hard_ on the underside of her breast.

Jemma arched up off the bed, moaning loudly. Bucky lifted his mouth away with a pleased smile, inspecting the red mark he’d left behind.

“You _bruised_ her, you jerk!” Steve said, horrified.

“Steve…” Jemma said, upset by his apparent revulsion. “It’s okay, it’s _good_.”

“Go stand over there,” Bucky said suddenly, pointing to the corner. “Where you can see. But don’t interfere. Jemma will tell me if she wants me to stop, won’t you, котенок?”

“I will,” she agreed immediately, not wanting Steve to move away, but realising that he probably needed to. Releasing her grip in his hair, she pushed gently. “Go on, Steve. Watch. I know you like to.”

He obeyed slowly, and as he moved back, Jemma thought of another thing to ask. “Naked.”

“ _What_?” Steve’s eyes flew wide.

Bucky snorted a laugh against Jemma’s stomach. “Go on, punk. Our girl says jump, we ask how high. Get naked.”

Slowly, Steve slid his hands down to the waistband of his pants, unfastened his belt. Jemma leaned up on her elbows, staring unabashedly.

“I’m getting to see Captain America naked,” she couldn’t help but giggle to Bucky, who laughed right along with her.

“It’s a pretty impressive sight.”

Steve pouted at both of them, but there were the beginnings of a smile starting to tug at the corners of his lips again, and he shimmied his hips quite deliberately as he pushed his pants down. He was half-hard, but that was more than impressive enough, and Jemma stared greedily, filling her eyes with the sight.

“He really is physical perfection, isn’t he?” Bucky said a little dreamily. Jemma turned her head to look back at him.

“So are you,” she said softly.

“Hardly,” he grimaced, glancing sideways at the metal arm, his dark hair falling across his face.

“Bucky,” she brushed his hair back, tucking it behind his ear. “You _are_. You’re magnificent.” Her fingers trailed down the strong column of his throat, stroked slowly over the thick scar tissue where his arm met his chest. “I feel so lucky - just incredulous - that _both_ of you are my soulmates. I don’t deserve either of you, I’m not at all special…”

“Shh,” he soothed gently, spotted Steve move forward from the corner of his eye. “You stay over there,” he pointed. “It’s my turn right now. Jemma will call you over when she wants you.”

“Well you tell her to stop talking like that then, Buck!” Steve snapped, fists clenched at his sides. “You’re real special, Jemma!” he called to her. “So beautiful. So smart, we’ve heard all about how brilliant you are. Me ‘n’ Buck, we’re just a couple of grunts…”

“Hardly,” she denied, before gasping as Bucky’s hand found her breast again.

“Don’t need words,” Bucky murmured, leaning up to kiss her lips before moving back down to her breast again. “Gonna _show_ you.”

“Ohhhh,” Jemma’s body arched as Bucky flicked the tip of his tongue over her nipple. Steve watched with fascination as she ran her hand into Bucky’s hair, gripping and holding him against her much as she’d held Steve a few moments earlier, encouraging, he could see now. Demanding, even. Wanting _more_. And Bucky was giving her what she wanted, suckling her nipple into his mouth, drawing on it with long, slow pulls, his hand plucking and tugging at the other until she sobbed his name.

Bucky made no verbal response, just shifted his body until he was kneeling above Jemma, never letting his attentions to her breasts lapse for a moment. Deftly, he unfastened her trousers and pushed them down, removing her shoes, leaving her wearing nothing more than a pair of skimpy satin panties, cream with tiny pink flowers.

Steve didn’t want to blink. He stared lustfully, aware that Bucky’s eyes flicked to check on him from time to time but uncaring; he wanted only to watch Jemma, her slight body fragile beside Bucky’s muscled bulk as she writhed beneath him.

Bucky bit lightly at Jemma’s nipple, testing how hard she liked it, tugged with his teeth until her fingers tightened warningly, pulling at his hair. Easing back, he smiled against her skin, nodded to show he understood. Began to kiss his way down her belly.

“Hmmm,” Jemma murmured happily as her panties were soon stripped away too. Vaguely, she turned her head, looked towards Steve. He was staring back at her, eyes very wide, lips parted as he panted. He took a very small step towards her, barely more than a sway forward, but she shook her head and pointed at him.

Steve huffed out a frustrated breath before smiling at Jemma and quite deliberately dropping his hand to his rapidly swelling cock. She watched, licking her lips, as he wrapped his hand around it and stroked himself to full hardness, eyes still locked with hers.

“Have I lost your attention again, котенок?” Bucky asked, but there was only amusement in his voice, no jealousy. And determination, as she realised when he set about suckling a bruise into her inner thigh, a slow, steady pull of his lips and tongue on an incredibly sensitive spot that almost sent her into orbit.

“Oh God don’t stop,” Jemma babbled, “please, Bucky, please, don’t stop, I’m paying attention, oh _yesss_.”

Checking the reddening mark, Bucky smiled and moved higher, nuzzling into the cleft between her thighs, the light shadowing of stubble on his cheek rasping her tender skin. “Going to make you purr, котенок,” he whispered, “and maybe yowl a little bit for me…”

She purred, she yowled, she _screamed_ as he worked her clit with his tongue. Supersoldier muscles really didn’t get tired, and Bucky showed absolutely no sign of getting bored down there. He was very skilled. _Very_.

Jemma whimpered, clawing at Bucky’s scalp. He made a pleased humming sound against her and dug his fingers into the backs of her thighs, lifting her pussy against his mouth to push his tongue deep.

From his position in the corner, looking down on both of them, Steve could see _everything_ , see the flush of arousal spreading from Jemma’s breasts up to her pretty face, her lips parted and wet, eyes glazed with passion. She was glorious in her pleasure; his cock was rock-hard in his hand, leaking fluids. How Bucky hadn’t already ripped his own jeans away and plunged into Jemma Steve was struggling to comprehend.

Bucky looked up at him then, his chin wet, slick with Jemma’s juices… and _winked_. “Gettin’ some tips, punk?”

“Jerk,” Steve said breathlessly, moving forward slightly. Bucky pointed at him.

“Not until Jemma calls you, punk.”

“ _Please_ ,” Steve said desperately.

“Not - not yet,” Jemma said, feeling a sudden rush of power at hearing that note in Steve’s voice. “Bucky, _why_ do you still have clothes on?”

He chuckled warmly against her thigh. “Concentratin’ on you, doll. Makin’ sure you’re having a damn good time.” Rolling to his back for a moment, he removed his pants, kicking free of them. Jemma watched with eager anticipation, her eyes widening, impressed. Bucky was as big as Steve, thick and long. Instinctively she reached out, traced her fingers lightly around the swollen head, flicked a fingertip over the thin thread of sensitive skin just below the head.

Bucky rumbled deep in his chest. “Huh, yeah, doll,” his eyes closed and he lay back and relaxed as Jemma pushed lightly at his chest, going to her knees.

Steve let out a low, frantic cry as Jemma bent to take Bucky’s cock into her mouth, and she hesitated as she realised how exposed she was, her ass facing towards Steve. With her knees parted, he’d be able to see straight into her pussy.

“Let him watch,” Bucky rasped out. “Let him _want_.”

She hummed a little laugh around the thick head of his cock, her tongue swirling around the sensitive thread of skin behind the head, making Bucky let out strangled noises as she hollowed her cheeks and bobbed her head.

“Look at her, Stevie,” Bucky said, his voice low and husky, strain clear in it as Jemma worked her hot mouth eagerly around his cock. “She’s magnificent. Made for us, for both of us, everything we ever dreamed of, ahhh, _Christ_ , Jemma!” His hips jerked upwards involuntarily as her teeth grazed lightly around his rim. She took him deep, gulping around his cock until his hips dropped again, his hands coming up to stroke gently through her hair.

“Off,” Bucky mumbled finally, “enough…” his fingers gripped, lifted her head. Jemma made a protesting little sound, but he kept tugging gently until she was forced to let his cock slip out of her mouth.

“Gonna give him a show, sweetheart,” he picked her up as though she weighed no more than a feather. “And when you’re ready, you invite him to join us. Or not. It’s all your choice. Always.”

She smiled at him as he reached for the bedside table, pulled out a strip of foil packets. Yanked one off the strip and threw it at Steve, who caught it deftly.

“Get dressed, punk. For sure you ain’t gettin’ an invitation to the party otherwise.”

Grateful for Bucky’s consideration, Jemma lay comfortably on the bed and watched as he rolled the condom on. He smiled at her before sitting up on the edge of the bed, facing Steve, and crooking his fingers at Jemma.

“Come here, котенок,” he requested softly.

She didn’t hesitate, just moved over to him, gazing trustingly at him, reaching out to stroke her fingers lightly down his metal arm. Bucky pulled her into a kiss, tender and deep, before guiding her gently to sit down on his lap, her back against his chest, thighs spread wide over his. She arched her back with a low, drawn-out moan of pleasure as he drew her down in one long, slow movement, impaling her on his cock.

Steve let out a desperate gasp, his eyes locked on both of them. The sight of Jemma arching back against Bucky, her hair tumbling across his metal arm, her pretty breasts jutting towards him, drove him almost insane. Bucky smirked at him over Jemma’s shoulder, before bending his head to nip and suck on Jemma’s neck, suckling a hicky into her tender throat.

Steve could see so much, Bucky’s cock pushed deep into Jemma, her slight body writhing on him, trying to get more stimulation. It was beautiful, the most amazing, arousing thing he’d ever seen.

And then Bucky’s hands came up, pinching and tugging at Jemma’s already-distended nipples, dragging wails of pleasure from her as he rolled his hips in slow arcs, short thrusts of his cock deep inside her.

“Please!” Steve shouted at last, utterly frantic. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want, Jemma, please!”

Bucky stilled, stopping his attentions to Jemma’s nipples as well. “Tell him what you want, котенок,” he whispered in her ear.

“Come - come to me,” Jemma panted out, her hips still shifting in a desperate effort to make Bucky move. “On your knees.”

Steve hit his knees instantly, crawled to her, his face a mask of need, kneeling between Bucky’s feet. Pressed his face between her legs without urging, licking over her clit, moaning with pleasure at the taste.

“That’s it, punk,” Bucky said, breath ragged as Steve’s hand eased in to stroke at his balls to. “Treat her right now. She don’t like it gentle, our girl. Do you, kitten?”

“No - no, rough, please, fuck me rough, Bucky, that’s it, ohhhh,” she clutched at Steve for balance as Bucky started to move, hips jolting roughly up into her, fingers working her nipples again, just hard enough to ride the pleasure/pain edge. Knotting her fingers in Steve’s thick, blond hair she held his face hard against her, grinding her clit against his mouth. “That’s it, that’s it, yes, yes, _YES_!” The last word was a scream as she came, juices flooding into Steve’s mouth, Bucky groaning as strong internal muscles spasmed around him.

“Good girl, so good, so lovely,” Bucky praised, still playing with her nipples, making her gasp and squirm. “Tell us what you want, kitten. Tell us what you want us to do for you.”

She was still holding Steve’s head hard against her, and he was still suckling and licking hard on her clit, grazing his teeth over it. Bucky’s cock was rock-hard inside her, pressing right against her g-spot, an utterly amazing feeling that Jemma never wanted to end.

At the same time, she was already thinking that she wanted more. Wanted both of them, wanted to feel them both deep inside her. Licking dry lips, she whispered “Do you have any lube, Bucky?”

He groaned, nipping at her throat. “Sure, kitten. Get it, Steve.”

She was reluctant to let go of his hair, but eventually did, in hopes of a greater reward. Steve scrambled over to the bedside table, still on his knees, returned hastily with a tube in hand. Kneeling between Bucky’s feet again, he stroked up Jemma’s quivering thighs, again at where Bucky’s cock disappeared into Jemma’s body.

“You want this?” Bucky said softly, tugging Jemma back a little to give Steve a better look. “She’s so hot, so tight. Feels glorious on my cock.”

Jemma moaned, shifted against him. “Want - both. Both of you. Hard, fast…”

Steve almost sobbed with need. His cock was aching, throbbing, even the condom around his cock too much sensation.

“Lay down on the bed, Stevie,” Bucky ordered, and he obeyed at once, mindless and desperate.

Jemma cried out with loss as Bucky’s hands around her waist lifted her off him, but almost instantly she was set back down straddling Steve. Greedily, she grasped for his cock, standing rigidly to attention; guided herself down on it with a pleasured moan. She fully intended to start riding him at a gallop, but a cold metal hand at the small of her back held her still.

“Bucky!” she wailed in frustration.

“Wait until I can join the fun, котенок,” he ordered, popping the cap on the lube with his free hand. “Stevie ain’t gonna last long once you start ridin’ him, and I doubt I will either. God, look at you,” he marvelled, flesh hand stroking over her small, tight buttocks. “So gorgeous.” She tried to wiggle and he dealt a small smack to her bottom, smiling as she jumped and squeaked. “Behave.”

“Please!” she shouted, driven past endurance.

“Take care of her those beautiful boobies, Stevie,” Bucky ordered, reaching down and pressing the tip of the lube bottle just above Jemma’s puckered little hole. “I’m busy here.”

She wailed as Steve’s strong hands cupped her breasts; he’d learned from watching Bucky, was no longer gentle, pinching and tugging at her nipples with just the perfect amount of pressure to send jolts of pleasure straight through her, his cock thick and heavy inside her…

“I’m coming,” she wailed, “I can’t stop, oh God _yes_!” as Bucky’s finger slid slickly into her ass.

“Come on then,” Bucky said hoarsely, “Clench on Stevie, let him feel you, and then we’re both gonna fuck you up to another, and _another_ , and keep going until you think you can’t come any more…”

Jemma screamed, convulsing; Steve cried out too, biting hard on his bottom lip. Bucky knew just how he felt. He could feel the involuntary clenching of Jemma’s muscles around his finger as she orgasmed, could just imagine how it felt squeezing on Steve’s already-painfully aroused cock.

“Loveliest sight I ever did see,” he said huskily, and added a second lube-coated finger to the one already inside Jemma.

She was yowling like a cat in heat, Jemma quite realised it, but what Steve and Bucky were doing to her felt so good that she couldn’t remotely bring herself to care. A third finger pressed into her ass, Steve’s fingers yanked almost cruelly on her nipples, and she felt herself building up again.

“Please,” she tried frantically to shift, but Bucky’s metal hand at the small of her back was immovable, holding her completely still on Steve, even as Bucky’s fingers worked her open wider.

“You want something, котенок?” Bucky breathed hotly in her ear. She moaned incoherently and clawed at Steve’s shoulders as he gave her nipples a sharp little twist. “That’s it, Steve,” Bucky said approvingly, watching. “Perfect, make them stand up - God, Jemma, you’re so lovely!” He couldn’t hold back any more, sliding his fingers out with a squelch.

She whined with loss and he kissed her shoulder, leaning over her, cock nudging at her ass as he pushed her forward onto Steve. “You ready for me, kitten?”

“Yes,” she said in a low, deep voice he hadn’t heard her use before, throaty and firm. “Now. I want it, I want it all, give it to me _now_!”

“Bossy little kitten,” Bucky chuckled roughly, but he was hardly in a mood to deny her, not when he was desperate to be inside her again, to feel Steve through her thin walls, for all three of them to take their pleasure together. Slowly, gently, he pressed the head of his cock inside Jemma’s rear passage. She sucked in her breath and went very still; he stroked the small of her back soothingly as she panted.

“Easy, easy,” both men crooned softly to her as Bucky eased a little deeper, tiny little thrusts. Steve kissed her, hot tongue licking into her mouth, and she lost herself in that a little bit, enough for Bucky to push fully inside and still, groaning deep in his chest as tight muscles gripped hard on the base of his cock.

Jemma writhed and panted, pinned between two massive bodies. Steve’s hands slid down to grasp her hips, Bucky’s to replace them on her breasts, and she sobbed as the cool metal of his left hand added yet another layer of stimulation to her already overloaded nervous system.

And _then_ they started to move.

It took them a moment to get a rhythm going, but then they had it, and she was a rag doll between them, pulled up onto Bucky’s cock and down onto Steve’s in an alternating sequence that tore ragged screams of ecstasy from her mouth, had her clawing furrows into Steve’s shoulders that healed over instantly.

“That’s it,” Steve growled as she tightened helplessly on him again, sobbing his name and Bucky’s over and over again. “Yes, Jemma, _yes_!”

“Yes!” Bucky echoed, slamming down hard, pushing her down onto Steve one last time.

Heat flooded inside her from both their release, but Jemma was too far gone to even notice, just lying on Steve’s chest shuddering violently as the most extreme orgasm she’d ever had went on and on and _on_.

“Sshh,” Steve crooned at her, stroking her sweaty hair back from her face as Bucky slowly eased out of her. “Sshh, Jemma… Buck, we did too much…”

“No,” she denied, her voice slow and hoarse, drugged-sounding. “Perfec’. Jus’ perfec’.”

“ _You_ were perfect,” Steve kissed her brow and she smiled wearily against his chest.

Bucky’s arms curled around her, lifted her off Steve. He cradled her to him gently for a moment before laying her back down in the middle of the bed. “Go clean up, punk,” he said to Steve quietly. “She needs holding. I’ll be here for her until you get back.”

Jemma curled contentedly into Bucky’s arms, her cheek resting in the curve between his neck and shoulder. His metal shoulder.

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable on the other side, котенок?” he shifted a little.

“No,” she mumbled dreamily. “Nice. Cool. Stay.”

He chuckled, a soft rumble in his chest, and the gears in his arm whirred softly as he tugged her closer.

“You’re an angel, you know that? Not a kitten.”

“Angel-kitten,” came a sleepy giggle in response, just as Steve returned.

“Here, cuddle the angel-kitten while I get cleaned up,” Bucky said, and Steve gave him a bemused look.

“You and your nicknames.”

Bucky only grinned at him in response, gently disentangling himself from Jemma. She whined unhappily and made grabby hands until Steve curled up behind her, pulling her in and spooning around her.

“Ohhhh,” she sighed happily, turning her head to rub her cheek on his chest. “So nice.”

Steve smiled, looking at the dreamy, ecstatic expression on her face. “I think angel-kitten might be fairly apt right now, actually.”

Jemma turned her head up a little further, blinked long lashes at him slowly. “Just remember,” she said teasingly, “kittens have claws.”

“I noticed.”

“Hmmm?”

“Let’s just say it’s a good thing the serum gave me super-healing, or my shoulders would be quite a mess.”

She couldn’t help but giggle. “Good thing I’ve got two supersoldiers for soulmates then, hmm?”

“Indeed it is, doll,” Bucky returned and slid into bed on her other side, snuggling close. “I’m thinking it will take both of us to keep you satisfied.”

The very idea was so ridiculous that Jemma burst out laughing. Both men chuckled as well, holding her close, pressed between two powerful bodies.

“How did I get this lucky?” she asked at last, staring at them in wonder as they both looked back at her.

“Sweetheart, I was just wondering the same thing,” Steve answered, and Bucky nodded in agreement, leaning in to kiss her lips softly.

She smiled in happy contentment, snuggling down in between them and closing her eyes, quite certain that there was absolutely nowhere else in the world that she would ever want to be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ugh, guys, I’m sorry this one took me so long to finish. I had to move house on Dec 3, so there was much panicky packing happening, and then not much time to write… if you missed them, though, I did do a series of Christmas-themed drabbles for various soulmate pairings which you can find _[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5424140/chapters/12532625)_. **
> 
> **Special bonus; for those of you who got a bit hooked on Victor/Darcy and begged to see a woods chase scene, you can find it _[here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5424140/chapters/12670361)._**
> 
> **And NO, I’m not still taking prompts for those! PLEASE DO NOT send me any, they will not be accepted.**
> 
> **Hopefully now I’ll be able to get back to a somewhat more regular schedule for these and some new Shorts I’ve been tinkering with!**
> 
>   **Next up will be Bucky/Fitz, as voted for by CeliaEquus, kiaraaine, TheLittleSwan, frosticenow, Wanda Morse, aishoren, blueharlequin, Lula, Raveninflight, EllaMichelle, TheArtfulDodger588, sabelle67, pretzel_logic, MCUFan34, Iris Sanchez 125, Yasmania, beauty_is_in_the_eye_of_the_beholder, rainedoodle, kamadu, SMC9, Isla_Singer, yapper444, lonleyrose03 and EvalanAudh.**
> 
> **Don't forget to go to the next chapter to look at the voting list, to see what's eligible for voting and what you've already voted for - remember you can only vote ONCE for any given ship - and then come back to THIS chapter to vote, please, and tell me if you enjoyed the smut!**


	24. Bucky/Fitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continues from [Chapter 124, HYDRA Or Mine](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/8169833)
> 
> (Still cracking myself up over the ship name being Butz, btw :D)

Bucky called Steve and Sam back in while Fitz collected some tools, his hands still shaking but his mind clear. They both stayed at a safe distance while Fitz carefully, and very gently, cleaned the external parts of the arm.

“Okay,” Fitz stood back finally, tipping his head to consider the job. “Where would you like me to start?”

“...what?” Bucky looked up at him, surprised.

Fitz gestured at Bucky’s arm with the tiny star-head screwdriver he’d identified as being the correct one to remove the bolts. “Where would you like me to start? From the noises you’ve got a lot of grit and junk stuck in there, but I can’t imagine you want me to pull the whole thing to bits, and no doubt you’ve seen more of the inner workings of that thing than anyone bar the engineers who built it. So…” he gestured again.

“Here,” Bucky said finally, after a long, silent stare. He turned his hand over and indicated a plate on the palm. “If you remove this one, there’s control switches to disable each finger one at a time, for maintenance.”

“Okay.” Fitz still waited until Bucky held the hand out towards him to approach with the screwdriver.

The arm was an incredible piece of machinery. Fitz couldn’t help a few incredulous murmurs of appreciation for the genius of those who had conceived and built it, had interfaced it so brilliantly with Bucky’s nervous system.

“Do you have sensation in it? Feel touch?” he asked curiously, using a tiny vacuum sucker to clean the joints of Bucky’s little finger.

“Not… exactly,” Bucky said, his tone slow and thoughtful. “Not as my other hand feels touch. But I’ve had it a long time, and my brain has learned to process the input from both the pressure sensors and visual input from what I see.”

“Your brain’s re-routed,” Fitz murmured. “Yes, of course. Mine did the same thing after… after the pod.”

“What pod?” Bucky said. When Fitz didn’t answer, Bucky’s human hand came up, landed lightly over Fitz’s. “What pod, Fitz? Tell me.”

He had the distinct feeling that he shouldn’t talk about it, but once Steve and Sam added their voices asking too, he ended up spilling everything. The Avengers already knew about Coulson, of course - Hill had spilled the beans within hours of Fitz and Jemma turning up on their doorstep - and had helped him reclaim SHIELD without drama. They didn’t, however, know about Grant Ward.

Bucky’s hand tightened comfortingly around Fitz’s as soon as he managed to stammer out the name. Bucky could tell how afraid Fitz was, how distressed at the mere thought of this man, this _monster_ , who’d once been his trusted friend, someone he truly looked up to - and who had dropped him and his best friend into the ocean to die, even as they begged for their lives. Bucky wanted desperately to take Fitz into his arms, to hold him and comfort him, but he could tell from the stiff way Fitz held himself, the way his words spilled out rapidly, that he just wanted to say this. To tell them, to get it over with - perhaps to beg for reassurance that he was safe now, which Bucky would be only too happy to give him.

The rage on Bucky’s face when Fitz finished the story frightened him. He refused to cower, though, holding firmly to Bucky’s hand.

“Don’t do anything reckless. Please,” he begged. “I just found you. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

Bucky’s face softened as he looked down at Fitz. “You won’t lose me.”

“Then don’t go after Ward. Please.”

“He won’t have to,” Steve spoke, surprising both of them. “He’s a marked man from this day on, Fitz. We’ll have JARVIS looking for him within the hour. He won’t be able to pass a camera, use a smartphone or a computer, anywhere in the world, without us finding him. We’ll find him, we’ll stop him, and he will never hurt anybody else again.”

Fitz stared at Steve; at Sam, who nodded firmly, before turning back to Bucky. His soulmate’s blue eyes bored into his, and, to his horror, Fitz felt hot tears beginning to well up in his own eyes.

“I’m so scared of him,” he whispered, and Bucky’s arms closed comfortingly around him, holding him close. Bucky gave one sharp upward jerk of his chin to Steve and Sam, and the other two men silently left the room.

“You’ll never have to lay eyes on him again,” Bucky whispered, rocking Fitz gently against him, finding his own internal strength again in his soulmate’s need. “I promise.”

Fitz clung to him, sobbing, hiccoughing out apologies, until finally he was able to hear Bucky saying quietly “It’s okay, Fitz. It’s okay. You’re allowed to cry, you’re allowed to be scared.”

“I don’t like being scared,” but Fitz didn’t pull away as Bucky stroked his back. “I got Hunter to teach me how to use a gun properly even though I hate them, but Ward - he’s like a machine, you just can’t keep him down.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Bucky said with a wry little smile. “That’s what they said about me, and it’s even partly true.” He flexed metal fingers, gears whirring smoothly now the hand was clean. “Yet here I am, Steve and Sam stopped me.”

“That’s different,” Fitz dragged his sleeve across his eyes, trying to dry them. “You didn’t _want_ to be working for Hydra, hurting people. Ward _likes_ it.”

“Then we’ll make sure he doesn’t get the chance to do it any more,” Bucky said firmly, hugging Fitz tight again. “Stevie’s really not keen on those Hydra mooks, and neither am I.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky couldn’t leave the Tower just yet, and Fitz didn’t want to. Without a particular purpose, Bucky found himself hanging around the labs just to watch Fitz work, listening to him mumble to himself as he fiddled about improving Stark tech even Tony had thought finalised.

“I don’t think Stark will ever forgive you for pointing out the flaw in that,” Bucky said, amused, as Fitz played with a holographic simulation.

“He’ll forgive me when I improve its efficiency by sixty per cent,” Fitz said absently. “Or… hmmm… maybe even as much as eighty per cent…”

Bucky grinned as Fitz went back to work. And had to suppress a sudden urge to see if he could turn his soulmate’s attention, all that intense focus, onto _him_ instead.

They’d barely touched. Bucky wasn’t ready to jump into anything, and Fitz, he thought, was nervous and probably inexperienced. Hyper-aware of his surroundings, Bucky was aware of every time Fitz glanced at him from under his eyelashes, chewed on his lower lip.

Bucky thought quite a lot about Fitz’s lips, actually. About the way Fitz pursed them when he was thinking hard, about the way they parted very slightly when he was meticulously making some complex, tiny piece of machinery with consummate precision. About how those soft, pink lips might look stretched around Bucky’s cock…

Bucky shook himself out of it hastily, caught Fitz eyeing him again, and moved on a sudden impulse to stand behind the smaller man, close enough that Fitz’s shoulders touched his chest lightly.

“What’cha workin’ on?”

“Uh,” Fitz could actually _feel_ the heat of Bucky’s solid body behind him, radiating through him. He wanted to lean back into it, feel Bucky’s arms strong and steadying around him. His knuckles whitened as he hung onto the edge of the benchtop. “Um, it’s, um...” He couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Not with his soulmate so close. His stutters trailed off into silence.

“Fitz,” Bucky breathed into his ear, and a full-body shudder went through Fitz. He swayed backwards unconsciously, his hands loosening on the benchtop, _knowing_ that Bucky would catch him.

A metal arm locked inexorably around his ribs. Bucky could have held him up with either hand, with no effort at all, but he was holding Fitz tight, hard against him. Lust kicked Fitz hard in the guts, made him shiver as Bucky’s whiskered chin brushed his ear.

“You’re stammering again,” Bucky’s voice was low, his breath hot as his lips brushed Fitz’s neck lightly. “Stay calm. You don’t have to explain what it’s all about.”

“Th-that’s not why I’m st-st-st…” Fitz trailed off into a moan as Bucky began to suckle a small bruise into his neck.

“Isn’t it?” Bucky moved to nuzzle Fitz’s ear, delighting in the way Fitz sagged weakly back against him, letting out another little moan.

Fitz’s hands came up, clutched at Bucky’s wrist as he tried to find an anchor. His knees wouldn’t hold him up, but Bucky did, supporting him as his lips worked and suckled on Fitz’s neck. His flesh hand came up to cup Fitz’s chin, stroke his cheek, then move into his curly hair and grip gently, pulling Fitz’s head a little to the side so that Bucky had better access to his throat.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Fitz whispered.

“Mm,” Bucky replied softly, letting his teeth graze Fitz’s earlobe, delighting in his soulmate’s soft moan at the action. His right hand released Fitz’s hair, dropped to his belt buckle, then lower, pressing against the bulge in Fitz’s jeans.

Fitz whimpered needily, hips tilting forward against Bucky’s hand. Bucky thought about it, he really did, but they could be interrupted at any moment and getting caught in a sex act with his soulmate in Stark’s labs was the kind of thing he suspected neither of them would ever be allowed to live down. Bucky could care less - but he suspected that Fitz would care very much, so after a few light caresses, he slowly, reluctantly dropped his hand away.

Fitz made a pained little sound of loss that almost made Bucky change his mind, but instead he turned Fitz around in his arms, pulled him close again and kissed him, slow and hungry. Fitz’s hands clutched at his sides, kneading at him like a kitten’s paws, small hungry sounds in his throat driving Bucky mad with need.

“My room,” he tore his mouth from Fitz’s long enough to say, “please, Fitz, come to my room…”

“Yes,” Fitz panted back at him, pushing Bucky towards the elevator, making Bucky grin as he realised he’d held back a little bit too long. He was rather surprised though when, in the elevator, Fitz pushed him back against the wall, grabbed his head and greedily drew Bucky in for another kiss.

Neither of them saw Steve standing there when the doors slid soundlessly open, and Steve, after a moment of astonished gaping, beat a hasty, silent retreat into his own apartment as Fitz and Bucky stumbled out of the elevator, eyes only for each other, and into Bucky’s rooms.

It was Fitz who took the lead now, almost tearing at Bucky’s clothes until he had his shirt off, Bucky’s broad chest exposed. Having seen the metal arm and the terrible scarring where it attached to Bucky’s torso already, Fitz didn’t even give it a second glance now, just wrapping his arms around Bucky and kissing his chest, flicking his tongue against Bucky’s nipples until Bucky let out a growl and almost dragged him down onto the bed.

“God, you’re so _sexy_ ,” Bucky mumbled, rolling Fitz underneath him and unbuttoning his shirt with fingers that felt suddenly too big and clumsy.

“Och, dinnae be daft, mon,” Fitz panted in return, and Bucky discovered to his delight that Fitz’s Scottish brogue thickened immensely when he was aroused.

“Oh my god, that’s so hot,” he groaned.

“What?”

“Your accent… talk dirty to me, you gorgeous Scottish man.”

Fitz burst out laughing, and Bucky grinned at him and started kissing down his chest, pulling the unbuttoned shirt aside. Fitz felt weedy and thin next to Bucky, who was heavily muscled, but it didn’t seem to matter to his soulmate, who was making pleased noises as he kissed and stroked all over Fitz’s upper body. It felt so good that Fitz soon forgot all about feeling inadequate, just relaxing into Bucky’s touch, lifting a hand to stroke through Bucky’s sleek dark hair. Bucky hummed with pleasure, arching like a cat into the touch.

“Och, laddie, dinnae fash ye’reself,” Fitz said teasingly, realising that his voice was soft and throaty but not caring, deliberately deepening his brogue.

“Mmmm, yeah,” Bucky groaned, ground his hips in a circle, making Fitz’s eyes widen as he felt the weight, the hardness of Bucky’s erection pressing against his thigh through their clothes.

“Bucky,” he said a little hesitantly, “don’t stop, but…”

Bucky didn’t stop, but he did lift his head to look at Fitz, blue eyes meeting blue. “But?”

“I haven’t… done a lot of this, and it’s… been a while.”

 _All I’ve ever done is fool around and not since college_ , Bucky mentally, and correctly, translated. He smiled before leaning in to kiss Fitz again.

“What about you?” Fitz startled him by asking just before their lips met.

“What?” Bucky blinked in surprise.

“Well,” Fitz shrugged a bit sheepishly, “James Buchanan Barnes did have a reputation as a _ladies’_ man.”

That made Bucky chuckle. “Yeah, well, the thirties weren’t exactly as progressive as today if you ain’t straight. I like girls well enough, as friends. They’re fun, they have a different perspective on the world from men - but girls aren’t what turn me on.”

Fitz heaved a sigh of relief, only after it escaped realising he’d been almost holding his breath. “Me too,” he confessed. “I kind of hoped that I was wrong because it could be awkward, I felt wary for a long time, even denied that I was gay, but…” he peeped up at Bucky almost shyly. “I’m glad I was wrong to do that. That’s you’re the one.”

He looked so young and innocent that Bucky had to take a deep breath, to rein in a sudden ferocious desire to debauch Fitz into a begging, mindless mess who had no doubt whatsoever that his soulmate wanted nothing more than to be with him. In any way possible.

“While you’re gorgeous enough to drive me right out of my mind, especially with that accent of yours - we’re gonna take this at your pace, and stop when you say stop, yeah?”

Fitz gave him a grateful smile. “Don’t stop, I don’t want to stop, just… slow?”

“I’m a sniper,” Bucky said, “I know _allll_ about patience, believe me.”

Fitz moaned as Bucky nibbled lightly on his collarbone, realising that he might in fact have set himself up for a good deal of frustration. “Not _too_ slow,” he begged, making Bucky chuckle against his neck.

“You’re contradicting yourself, now.” He eased a solidly muscled thigh between Fitz’s, chafed it lightly, making the smaller man moan again. A bead of sweat gathered on Fitz’s throat, slid downwards; Bucky caught it with his tongue, traced back up the path it had taken. Fitz was closely-shaven, his skin smooth and clean-tasting, satiny under Bucky’s questing tongue.

Bucky hummed with pleasure as he tasted Fitz. Leaning on the elbow of his metal arm, his other hand was free to explore, tracing lightly over Fitz’s lean chest, exploring the contours of his body. Fitz looked slight when clothed in his usual baggy chinos and checked lumberjack shirts, but Bucky had seen his strength when moving machinery around and wielding tools, wasn’t at all surprised to find well-defined, if lean, muscles under Fitz’s shirt.

Fitz moaned as Bucky’s fingertips slid over his stomach, his skin quivering with sensation in their wake. He sought Bucky’s mouth, kissing him with unpracticed enthusiasm, chasing Bucky’s teasing tongue lustfully.

 _Go slow, go slow_ , Bucky chanted silently to himself, but it was harder to be patient than it ever had before. Rolling further to his side, he pulled Fitz back against his chest.

“This okay?” he checked, sliding a hand down over Fitz’s flat stomach, fingering lightly at his belt buckle.

“Och, dinna tease!” Fitz panted in response, deliberately clenching his ass. Bucky groaned as Fitz’s tight buttocks squeezed against his rock-hard cock.

“ _You’re_ the little tease,” he growled, nipping at Fitz’s neck. “I’m gonna give that pretty little ass of yours a good reaming later.”

“Oh God,” Fitz’s eyes rolled back in his head at the dark promise in Bucky’s tone, “yes _please_.”

“You’re not helping with my self-control!”

Fitz laughed, but the laughter died in his throat as Bucky deftly unfastened his belt buckle and pants, sliding his fingers inside and into Fitz’s shorts. He hummed with pleasure to find Fitz already very erect, the tip leaking against his fingers. Exploring gently, Bucky investigated what Fitz liked, discovered the way Fitz started taking sharp little breaths through his nose when Bucky’s hand clenched tight around his tip.

“Bucky, oh Gawd, _ahhhh_!” Fitz cried out suddenly, hips jerking spasmodically as he spurted. Bucky worked him through it, strong hand drawing every last drop out, not easing until Fitz clutched at his wrist a little frantically, then removing his dripping hand slowly, wiping it quickly on the sheet.

“S’ry,” Fitz mumbled, “m’d a mess of y’r bed…”

“It’s goin’ ta get a lot messier than this,” Bucky rasped in his ear, pulling Fitz harder against him. “Don’t worry about the bed. It’s got Stark’s special sheets on it anyway.”

“Hmmm?”

“When he heard we were soulmates, Stark sent me a gift basket, with some things - I had to look up what some of them were for on the internet, actually - these sheets were in it. Apparently they don’t let stains soak into the mattress and they wash easily…” Bucky suddenly realised that Fitz was absolutely scarlet-cheeked, burying his face in the mattress to try and hide. “Did you get one too?” he asked, suddenly guessing at why.

“I hid it under the bed,” Fitz mumbled into the pillow.

“Yeah?” Bucky grinned. Since Fitz was still semi-dressed, he busied himself removing Fitz’s shirt, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses all over Fitz’s shoulders and back as he did so, before working his way downwards. “God, you have a delectable ass,” he marvelled, nipping lightly at one pert globe.

Fitz laughed into the pillow in disbelief. “I’ve got a pasty, weedy nerdboy arse. Yours is _spectacular_ , now.”

“You think? Want to take a closer look?” Getting up off the bed, Bucky shucked his pants, walked away towards the bathroom stark naked. “Just gonna wash up. And collect some of those supplies from Stark’s gift basket, because I think we’re gonna need lube. Lots and _lots_ of lube.”

“Oh dear goooood,” Fitz mumbled into the pillow, certain his face was actually on fire. But he turned his head to watch Bucky walk away, because that back view really was spectacular, and even more so unclothed. And Bucky never left his sight, leaving the bathroom door open and bending over the sink to wash his hand, making Fitz’s eyes widen as Bucky’s legs spread and he got a good look at what was hanging down between them.

“Holy shit, I think you’re right about us needing lots of lube,” he said unguardedly, and heard Bucky’s laugh before his soulmate turned back around to give him the full frontal view.

“No rush, love,” Bucky gave him a wink before sauntering leisurely back towards the bed, completely unselfconscious about his nudity, unlike Fitz who was trying to conceal himself under a rather inadequate pillow.

 _Mind you if I had a body like that I’d flaunt it too_ , Fitz thought, running his eyes greedily over Bucky’s form; he was perfection, even the metal arm only somehow adding to his masculine beauty rather than detracting from it as it moved in perfect sync with the rest of him. And that cock… Fitz licked his lips, staring.

“Huhhh,” Bucky let out an explosive breath. “Uff, you really shouldn’t look at me like that.”

“Why not?” Gaining confidence from the way Bucky was staring at his mouth, Fitz deliberately licked his lips again, slowly. “You know what I’m thinking about, and you like the idea. Don’t you?”

Eyes suddenly blazing, Bucky took two quick steps to stand beside the bed, towering over Fitz. “You just _thinkin’_ about it?” he challenged softly.

Fitz really didn’t need any further invitation. Discarding his useless pillow-shield, he scrambled hastily across to the edge of the bed, sitting down with his knees bracketing Bucky’s, leaning forward with his lips already parted eagerly.

Bucky’s metal hand came out, cupped Fitz’s chin lightly, caressed his throat as Fitz’s warm, wet mouth enveloped the swollen end of his cock. His other hand slipped into Fitz’s curly hair, massaging slowly at his scalp as Fitz sucked, cheeks hollowing, head bobbing.

“Fitz,” Bucky groaned out his name, long and low, a harsh rasp. “Ah, my love, Jesus, that’s good!”

Pleased at Bucky’s reactions, Fitz hummed in his throat, sliding his hands gently up Bucky’s muscled thighs, curling one hand around the base of Bucky’s thick cock to grip tightly, the other moving underneath and cupping heavy balls, rolling them between his fingers.

 _"Yebat’!"_ ; Bucky shouted, fingers clenching in Fitz’s hair, but he made himself let go, pull back, offering Fitz the choice.

Fitz only made a protesting noise and sucked him deeper again. A sob burst from Bucky as he came, jetting in thick spurts into Fitz’s eager mouth, cock pulsing in Fitz’s hand as he sucked Bucky dry.

“Jee-sus,” Bucky pushed Fitz back onto the bed, flopped on top of him in an ungainly tangle of limbs, making Fitz laugh.

“Language,” he teased. “Whatever would Steve say?”

“A fuck of a lot worse, if he’d just had his brains sucked out through his cock too,” Bucky grinned down at Fitz, who laughed harder.

“You started this!”

“And you most definitely finished it. Temporarily,” Bucky’s hips were nestled between Fitz’s thighs, their cocks pressed together, their eyes level, since Bucky was a good four inches taller. “Because I’ve still got plans for your ass, my love.”

Fitz shivered with desire, his pupils flaring. Lips parted, he ran his tongue over them again before asking “Did you find that lube?”

For answer, Bucky held up a tube, smirking a little. “I did.”

“Mm-hm.” Fitz’s cock twitched with interest. Bucky’s twitched in response, and Bucky dived in for a kiss, delving deeply into Fitz’s mouth, strong arms wrapping around the slighter man and rolling them both over so that Fitz was on top. Fitz set his knees and straddled Bucky happily, moaning against Bucky’s lips as their hips rolled, two rapidly hardening cocks grinding together.

Fitz stilled and shivered  as Bucky’s hands slid down over his ass, so Bucky paused and pulled back from the kiss, resting his forehead against Fitz’s.

“We don't have to do this now. It can wait.” The very tip of his index finger glanced over Fitz’s tightly puckered hole, making the smaller man shudder again.

“No, I want to!” Fitz denied instantly. “It's just… well, your hand is cold!”

Bucky blinked, realising that was probably true. The room was cool, even though he and Fitz were both quite warm, and the metal of his prosthetic hand on Fitz’s buttock probably did feel quite chilly.

“Sorry,” he made to pull his hand away, but Fitz reached back and grabbed his wrist.

“Don't. It's warming up now. I like it there.”

“I like it there too,” Bucky grinned, squeezing gently before reaching up to capture Fitz's lips again. His other hand moved away for a moment before returning, and Fitz heard a cap pop, moments before there was a warm wet trickle down between the cheeks of his ass.

Bucky’s fingers followed the trickling lube, making Fitz moan and squirm as those agile fingers spread the lube, teasing around his taint and his balls before stroking back up and swirling around the tight little hole that Fitz very badly wanted to have filled. He made a pleading, hungry sound against Bucky's mouth, trying to push up against those teasing fingers, but Bucky's metal hand on his buttocks held him inexorably still, at least until Fitz lifted his head and said desperately;

“ _Please_ , Bucky!”

Bucky's answering chuckle was filthy with lust, the look in his eyes passion-filled. He sat up suddenly, stomach muscles rippling, taking Fitz with him easily before flipping him to his back.

“Patience, you greedy thing. Don't wanna hurt you.”

“Want it, want it all, want to _bond_ ,” Fitz begged helplessly as two slick fingers breached his ass, pushing slowly deep before probing lightly at his prostate, making Fitz buck upwards and let out a strangled scream, even as he tried to hook his thigh over Bucky's arm, get their soulmarks in contact.

“Not yet,” Bucky growled. “Not until I'm inside you, my love.”

Fitz sobbed with need as Bucky’s fingers scissored slowly, stretching him open, flicking every now and then against his prostate to make Fitz cry out. A third long finger slid in to join the first pair after a little while, and Fitz's fingers formed into claws, ripping at the sheets, trying to get a grip, to get leverage to push himself down harder against those probing fingers.

“Easy,” Bucky said, his voice strained. God, Fitz was so gorgeous, lying there under him, knees pulled up to his chest and spread wide, literally _begging_ Bucky to fuck him in a Scottish accent so thick Bucky could barely understand the words. “Easy.” Fitz's cock lay flushed and red on his belly, twitching as Bucky's fingers worked him open still wider.

Bucky himself was erect and aching, just as hard and needy as he'd been before that amazing blowjob. Fitz was taking his fingers easily now, rolling his hips in a steady rhythm, panting out broken little pleas.

“Do you want me to use a rubber?” Bucky asked quietly, stilling his fingers for a moment.

“N-no. Jemma shared your test results with me…”

“‘Course she did.” Bucky wasn't offended, though. Just glad that Jemma wanted to look out for Fitz. “Okay then.” Leaning in to kiss Fitz, he slipped his fingers out, reaching for the lube again to thoroughly slick his cock.

“Urrrr, you're so hot,” Fitz mumbled, staring at Bucky as the bigger man sat back on his heels and took that magnificent cock in hand. “Please. Oh god please do it, fuck me, fuck me good, bond me, make me yours…” he stopped talking suddenly, afraid he sounded like a bad porno, but Bucky only groaned.

“Jesus, that's so fucking sexy!” The stream of filth pouring from Fitz’s mouth in his soft Scottish burr drove Bucky even wilder with wanting him, made him desperate to push into his soulmate and take him, hard and fast, making Fitz scream his name. He gritted his teeth, made himself hold on and wait, take it slowly. Pressing the thick, flared head of his cock to Fitz’s wet, greedy ass, he kept his hand clenched firmly around his cock, preventing it from sinking any deeper as Fitz grabbed at him with his legs, tried to pull him in. Little by little, he eased slowly deeper, watching with awed joy as Fitz writhed and panted under him, begging for more.

“You love this, don’t you?” Bucky gasped, feeling Fitz clenching around him. Finally he was able to let go of his cock as he sank deep - and immediately grasped hold of Fitz’s, making his soulmate moan in wordless ecstasy.

“So good, so good, oh god yes, oh god don’t stop!” Fitz’s head arched back, cords in his neck standing out as Bucky’s groin finally met his ass and Bucky’s lube-soaked hand slid smoothly up and down his cock.

“Not stopping,” Bucky gritted out, “nothing could make me stop, nothing - only you telling me to…”

“Don’t you dare!” It was a frantic shriek as Bucky started to thrust, and Fitz grabbed with his legs again, this time managing to hook them around Bucky’s body and pulling him close. Bucky’s hand on the small of his back lifted his ass off the bed, holding him steady for ever deeper, faster thrusts - and as Fitz’s leg hooked over Bucky’s bicep, their marks met.

Fitz screamed in total bliss, his cock jerking and spurting hotly in Bucky’s hand, and Bucky roared in response, shooting thick streams of come deep into Fitz’s welcoming body as muscles clenched tight around him. In that moment they were entirely open to each other, utterly vulnerable, and they looked into each other’s hearts and found that they shared the same fears, hopes and dreams.

“Fitz,” Bucky gasped wonderingly, “oh, _Fitz…_ ”

“My Bucky,” a shaking hand reached up to caress his cheek, and Bucky turned his head to kiss at Fitz’s palm, at those slim, capable hands that contained such strength of their own.

“Yours,” he said softly, “I am only, ever, yours.”

 

 _Yebat_ ’ _!_ \- oh, fuck!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As usual, the voting list is in the next chapter, but please come back to THIS chapter to vote!**
> 
> **And since I don't think I said this yet, a huge THANK YOU to all those of you who take to time to vote! You take an impossible decision (what to write next, oh noes!) out of my hands, and I can't tell you how grateful I am for that. Plus, it makes me feel really great that enough people care about these crazy little ships I keep producing to want to see more of them!**
> 
> **Next on the list to be written is Jemma/Quicksilver, which had a late surge of votes to take the lead. See, your votes really do count!**
> 
>   **Voted for by: sneakytortoise, bumble.bee.kawaii, Lia, Ellibell, EllaC., Emily, AlekWalker, Oneshot_Yaoi_Shipper, Vassy11, mnemosynes_tears, Spitfire303, darklou91, coffeeandtv, SarahJaneDoctor, Greennonmonster, AwesomeSauce220, LovelyGirl51, phoenix_173, jdho2, Madjai6, FoodieMom, blu3p34r1, 1noel11, Selene_Aduial and BeautifulApocalypse!**


	25. Jemma/Quicksilver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continues from [Chapter 39, _Told You I Was Quick._](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/6648947)
> 
> (Note that [Skye/Wanda](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/6971759) also occurs in this universe) 
> 
>   _Since these were written before AoU, you may consider AoU to be non-canon (I know I frequently do :P). Coulson’s team are working with the Avengers; Vision’s not around; Wanda and Pietro have just been rescued from a Hydra base where they were being experimented on._
> 
>  
> 
> **Voted for by: sneakytortoise, bumble.bee.kawaii, Lia, Ellibell, EllaC., Emily, AlekWalker, Oneshot_Yaoi_Shipper, Vassy11, mnemosynes_tears, Spitfire303, darklou91, coffeeandtv, SarahJaneDoctor, Greennonmonster, AwesomeSauce220, LovelyGirl51, phoenix_173, jdho2, Madjai6, FoodieMom, blu3p34r1, 1noel11, Selene_Aduial and BeautifulApocalypse!**

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Shorts%20Covers%202/quicksilver%205_zps3glxtehd.jpg.html)

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/pietro%20changing_zpsak2ioaoa.jpg.html)

Jemma had her hands full during the flight back to base managing Wanda, who appeared utterly disinclined to let herself be medically examined, even though both Jemma and Skye assured her that neither SHIELD nor anyone else would run any experiments or even so much as a blood test without her explicit permission.

All the while, Jemma was aware of Pietro, of him standing silently in the corner of the medbay, taller than everyone else present, his eyes on her constantly. She glanced at him a time or two and each time he smiled slowly, his light blue eyes gleaming.

“Jemma,” Skye had to nudge her, and she snapped out of it, realising that she’d been staring back at Pietro and smiling foolishly. “Jemma, Wanda’s thirsty, what can she have to drink?”

“Um,” Jemma had to regather herself. “Um.”

Wanda’s hand touched hers lightly, and she found her mind clearing.

“I can get you some rehydration solution. It’s very much like Gatorade, if you’ve had that?”

Wanda made a face. “Pietro likes it. I do not, particularly. Water?”

“That will be all right too,” as soon as Wanda let go of her hand, though, Jemma’s gaze slid back to Pietro - and he smiled at her again.

“I’ll get you that water,” Skye told Wanda, “I’m sorry, she’s not normally like this…”

“I understand,” Wanda smiled that gentle smile again. “How can I not, when I wish to look at you every moment just the same?”

It was only Coulson’s arrival that broke up the mutual staring. Seeing and assessing the situation at a glance, he ordered Skye and Pietro both out, and with her soulmate out of the room, Jemma was finally able to concentrate on her patient.

Not that Wanda remained her patient for long. No sooner had they landed than the Avengers arrived too, Stark with a stack of data he’d had JARVIS pull from Hydra’s computers, and he and Bruce Banner basically threw Jemma out of her own medical centre and took over Wanda’s care. With a couple of SHIELD MD’s Jemma left behind, of course. Since neither she nor Banner were ‘that kind of doctor’.

“She is in good hands, I theenk,” a heavily accented voice said behind her as she stared back through the lab windows, and Jemma jumped, hand to her chest, before spinning around to see Pietro, leaning negligently against the wall watching her.

“She is, I promise, nobody here would hurt her, or you…” she trailed off, just staring at him again. _How is he so beautiful?_

“Wanda can take care of herself.” Pushing off the wall, he took two long, easy strides, stood in front of her. He was tall, a good couple of inches over six foot, Jemma suspected, and she had to crane her neck to look him in the eyes. “As can Skye, I think. You,” his smile turned rather wolfish, “you, I believe I will need to keep a close eye upon.”

There was a distinctly dirty inflection on the words, as well as in the look he was giving her, and _dear God that should not be as hot as it is_. Jemma had to clench her fists at her sides to keep from just fisting her hands in his far-too-skintight athletics shirt and dragging him down for a kiss.

“So,” she said, striving to keep her tone light, realising how miserably she was failing when it came out squeaky, “tell me about you, Pietro Maximoff.”

He raised one muscled shoulder in a negligent shrug. “I am not very interesting, or I was not before Hydra turned me into their lab rat. Now I am still not very interesting. I just do it faster.”

She blushed scarlet before realising that he hadn’t actually meant the last remark as a _double entendre_. His eyes widened, he obviously thought back over what he’d just said, and then laughed, a low, rich chuckle, one eyebrow crooking endearingly.

“I do… _everything_ faster. If I want to, that is.”

Jemma made a helpless little squeaking noise, and then, unable to cope with the embarrassment any more, turned and fled.

About five steps down the corridor she realised she was trying to run away from the fastest man alive and wanted to smack herself in the head for being an idiot. She ran straight into Pietro instead, suddenly standing in her path; bounced off his muscles and would have landed on her ass if he hadn’t moved faster than she could see and scooped her easily up in his arms before setting her back on her feet again.

“Sorry,” he said in not-at-all apologetic tones. “I seem to have gained the instinct to chase, along with my speed.”

Jemma narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re totally making that up.”

“Perhaps I always had the instinct to chase after beautiful girls.”

“I just bet you did.” She gave him a cynically raised eyebrow.

“Though the only one I intend to be chasing from now on, is you.”

 _It was very, very unfair_ , Jemma thought dismally, for him to say things like that with such sincerity in that dreamy accent, his blue eyes shining as he smiled down at her, one long-fingered hand lifting, the tip of a finger brushing delicately along her jawline.

“I feel truly fortunate to have found you, Jemma. So brilliant, so beautiful. The world will know that Pietro Maximoff is a very lucky man.”

“Gufflemrph,” Jemma said incoherently, and he cocked that eyebrow again.

“This is a word? I do not know it…” and then he made an incoherent sound of his own as she reached up, grabbed two handfuls of his thick, unruly silver hair, and yanked him down to kiss that disturbingly gorgeous mouth.

Jemma was reminded that Pietro was actually five years her junior when he wasn’t as experienced a kisser as she might have expected; what he lacked in finesse he more than made up for in enthusiasm, though, promptly backing her up against the wall and lifting her off her feet so that she didn’t have to crane her neck. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, discovered almost immediately that he was in fact very enthusiastic _indeed_.

“Jesus Christ, get a fuckin’ room,” came Hunter’s outraged voice. “And you lot say Bob and I are outrageous, at least we don’t get it on in a corridor where _anyone_ can see us!”

Jemma had to muffle a cry of humiliation in Pietro’s shoulder. She really didn’t want to look up and see Hunter’s expression - and she really didn’t have to, apparently, because the walls of the base literally blurred around her, air rushed past her face, and then Pietro set her gently on her feet.

“I would have taken you to your room, but I do not know where that is,” he said apologetically, “so I just looked for a quiet corner…”

She took a moment to get her bearings, her head spinning slightly. Of course, she had to hold onto him while she regained her balance. And yes, it might not _totally_ be necessary for her to hold onto his deliciously muscular biceps, but… sue her. She was dizzy.

“You - aren’t far off, actually.” They were in the little dead-end corridor just outside May’s room. “My room is there.” She pointed without even thinking about it.

“That - wasn’t me asking you to invite me to your room.” Pietro could manage to look both awkwardly bashful and eagerly lustful at the same time, an interesting trick Jemma mentally filed away in her brain.

“I know. And that wasn’t me inviting you.” Regretfully, she let go of his arms. “This time. Even though you’re my soulmate and you’re _incredibly_ hot.”

Once again, he managed to combine two totally disparate expressions, looking both flattered and regretful. “It is too soon, _ne_?”

“I think it probably is. I know we’re soulmates, but - you’ve been through a lot, and we need to get to know each other first. I don’t want to rush this.” Even as she spoke, Jemma’s libido was gibbering with rage in the back of her mind. She tamped it down firmly, or tried to. “Well, I kind of do because have you _seen_ you? But, it’s probably best that we don’t.”

Pietro smiled again and bent his head to instigate the kiss, this time without hoisting her up. Slow and sensual, his hands cupping her face, it was a kiss to make Jemma feel quite dizzy with want.

“You are right, as I suspect I will say to you many thousands of times in the future, _anđele moj_ ,” he said quietly when he lifted his head.

Jemma smiled up at him. “I’m glad to see you’re a smart kind of guy,” she said pertly. “I shall have to keep my wits about me, to keep up with you.”

“Oh, _anđele moj_ ,” he chuckled deeply, “you will never keep up with me.” A firm kiss was pressed against her lips before he was gone in a blur, leaving her sagging back against the wall, hand pressed over her thundering heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jemma hardly saw anything of Pietro over the next few days. There were endless debriefings, and since he and Wanda were apparently going to join the Avengers - because Wanda said it was necessary and Pietro acquiesced without a word - they were promptly whisked off to Avengers Tower, where she had no particular reason to go.

Or so she thought. At least Pietro texted her every day, often - she would chuckle at the length of the messages, imagining his fingers flying on the touchscreen. They were sweet messages, too, telling her how much he wanted to see her, how Avengers Tower was filled with technological marvels but dull because she wasn’t there to explain them and discuss them with him. Every time she got one of the messages she would find herself smiling for ages afterwards.

But at night, lying alone in bed, she ached for him. Dreamed of his touch, of the way he’d held her, the way he’d _looked_ at her. She had no idea that Coulson was already discussing with the Avengers how best they could arrange things so that Jemma could spend as much time with Pietro as she wished.

Not until Hawkeye turned up in the Avengers jet one Friday evening and gruffly told her to grab her stuff.

“What?” she blinked at him, startled.

“Because Phil’s given you and your friend Skye the weekend off, and there’s a certain blond kid who’s been annoying the crap out of all of us with his pining,” Clint gave her a paternal smile. “At least his sister’s not so much for the wistful looks.”

Running to her room to grab a bag, Jemma saw Skye frantically packing through the open door to her quarters. Skye flashed her a wide, joyous smile which Jemma returned before slamming open her own door and sprinting to the closet to grab her holdall from the top shelf.

 _What the hell do I pack?_ she dithered for a moment, and then just hastily grabbed a couple of her better everyday outfits and one nice dress. A handful of underwear, her cosmetics bag and her toothbrush later and she was ready. She thought.

“You done?” Skye tapped on the doorframe. “Because there’s an Avenger looking seriously impatient in the corridor and I don’t think we should keep him waiting.”

“Think so. We’ll be in New York, I can always go shopping if we need something else!”

Skye chuckled at that, and they hurried to join Clint, who nodded approval of their quick preparations before leading them to the hangar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pietro and Wanda were both waiting for them in the hangar as the jet landed, but Jemma had no eyes for anyone but her soulmate. She ran to him without thought, throwing her arms around his neck and smooshing her mouth to his, hearing his delighted chuckle before he kissed her back hungrily. Never lifting his mouth from hers, he used his speed to whisk them both down to the apartment he and Wanda shared - and straight into his room, closing the door behind them.

Jemma found herself lying on Pietro’s bed, dizzy from more than just the fast movement as he kissed her, his mouth hungry on hers, though he kept his hands circumspectly on her waist. Nor had he laid down on top of her, instead lying beside her, holding her close but not pushing himself against her.

It wasn’t _enough_. She wanted more, so much more; pushing him to his back without breaking the kiss she scrambled astride his body, grabbed his hands in hers and pulled them to her breasts.

Pietro made a shocked - but very pleased - sound in his throat before his hands curved, testing her shape, his thumbs seeking and finding already-erect nipples, hard little buds through the thin silk of her blouse.

“No bra, angel?” he murmured as she broke her mouth from his to gasp with pleasure.

“No. I’d have come to you naked if I could,” she confessed, smiled at his look of surprise. “Pietro - I want you. You’re my soulmate. You’re an Avenger. I might fear _for_ you, but I’ll never be afraid _of_ you. Now make love to me. Please?”

He said several words she didn’t understand; Sokovian, she guessed, and their meaning she could take a guess at too from the look in his eyes, the softness there. The smile on his lips was pure delight as he began to unbutton her blouse.

“You’re so very beautiful,” Pietro murmured, still stunned that Jemma was literally offering herself up to him like this. “So brilliant.” He’d come to know her, through their emails, texts and calls in the last days, know how smart she was, how dedicated to her work, how loyal to her friends. She’d absolutely refused to let him blame himself for the things he’d done under Hydra’s control, saying that she was well aware of the difference between having no choice about doing bad things and doing them willingly. When pressed, in one long late-night conversation, she’d sighed before telling him about Grant Ward, about the Hydra mole within SHIELD who’d almost killed her and Fitz - and then about her own time undercover with Hydra. He’d heard the tears in her voice and wanted to kill everyone who’d forced her into that position.

Pietro reprimanded himself for even thinking about Hydra at a time like this, with Jemma lying beside him, her milky English skin incredibly soft to the touch as he bared her breasts, bent his head to kiss at them - vibrated his tongue teasingly against one of her nipples just to give her a hint of what he could do. She cried out and knotted her fingers in his hair, holding his head to her breast in a clear hint of what she wanted.

“ _Anđele_ ,” he muttered, “ _anđele moj_ \- _Боже, тако си лепа_ …”

“Speak English!” she demanded, making him chuckle again. She let go of his hair then and grabbed at his shoulders, tugging on his shirt. “Off!”

“Yes, ma’am,” leaning upwards, he peeled the shirt off quickly, smiling with pleasure at the appreciative look she gave his chest. “You like, Jemma?”

“Very nice,” she purred, dancing her fingers along just under his pectoral muscles. “Very nice indeed. Very - _symmetrical_. Going to show me what you can do with all this muscle, hmmm?”

“My pleasure,” he said, grinning, “and yours too, I hope.”

She smiled at him before leaning in to kiss him again, grabbing his wrist when one hand moved away from her breast and bringing his hand back.

 _Ah, sensitive breasts_ , Pietro realised, and gave them his full, undivided attention, taking the time to discover just where she was most sensitive, just how firmly she liked her nipples played with. Quickly enough that she couldn’t stop him, he dropped his hands to her waist and lifted her further up his body to straddle his abdomen, putting his mouth to her breasts and curling his tongue around one pointed nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth, even as his hand returned to the other breast, making sure it was not neglected.

Jemma groaned as Pietro suckled hard, his teeth grazing her nipple, and flung her head back, arching against him. He hummed with pleasure and sucked firmly on her, not quite hard enough to bruise but just the perfect pressure to make her groan in the back of her throat, wordlessly begging him not to stop.

Again moving so quickly she had no time to resist - not that she wanted to - Jemma found herself flipped to her back as Pietro moved to the other breast, settling himself between her thighs, sinuous hips grinding lightly against her. He really was beautifully made, she thought vaguely, her hands exploring his solidly muscled shoulders, his strong back, sliding down towards his lean waist. _He might not have the shoulder-to-waist ratio of Captain America, but Pietro bore a distinct resemblance to a Dorito himself_ , she thought, having to suppress the urge to giggle. Definitely, she wanted to eat him all up. _Lick him all over_ …

Pietro moaned as Jemma’s fingers knotted in his hair again and she yanked firmly, jerking his head up.

“Kiss me,” she demanded, her eyes wild, and he obeyed with alacrity, moving up over her and rubbing his chest against her breasts, delighting in her soft curves against his hardness, the more delicate texture of her skin inflaming his senses utterly.

“So lovely,” his hands and lips roamed freely over her upper body, tantalising her until she groaned impatiently and reached herself for her pants zipper.

“You are impatient,” he laughed at her, and she made a face at him, struggling with a suddenly recalcitrant zip.

“For a guy who’s supposed to be fast, you’re moving awfully slowly!”

“I told you,” brushing her hands gently aside, he eased the snagged zipper down and caught the edges of her pants in his big hands, sliding them down over her hips as she lifted her bottom off the mattress, “I can move slowly when I want to.”

“I’d rather you didn’t right now!” but she chuckled, and he smiled, removing her pants and shoes altogether, sitting back on his heels to look down at her, clad now in only a flimsy satin pair of panties. _Red_ panties.

“This - this I like very much,” Pietro breathed, gazing his fill. “You wear these for me?”

Jemma nodded. She’d taken a couple of minutes in the bathroom while packing to quickly whip off her bra and change her knickers, and was glad now that she had. The plain white cotton ones she’d been wearing wouldn’t have elicited that heated stare Pietro directed at her now, she was quite sure of it.

“Mm,” he made a pleased sound before muttering something guttural in Sokovian and sliding swiftly down the bed to nuzzle at her mound, pressing his lips just below. She was damp through the thin satin, making him groan again before he looked up at her.

“I can do this?”

“You _may_ do that,” Jemma corrected his grammar, making his grin quirk up before he plucked the satin aside and pressed his face against her, thrusting his tongue deep quickly. “Ah, ohh, that’s, ahhh! Yes! Christ, Pietro!”

Pleased by her reaction, the way her slight body bucked up against him, her small clever hands grabbing at his hair again, he repeated the action, thrusting his tongue quickly in and out of the sopping cavern that awaited him before moving up a little and vibrating his upper lip over her clit, thrumming the tip of his tongue just below it, between the delicate fleshy lips of her labia.

She could only scream wordlessly as he tested different vibration speeds with his lips and tongue, a pair of long fingers sliding into her pussy and crooking up to drum his fingers on her G-spot, gauging by her body’s reactions what she liked, until he found the exact combination that sent her spinning into orbit.

Throaty cries echoed off the walls, and Pietro smiled against Jemma, easing back and pressing gentle kisses against her clit as she came down. It was good that Tony Stark had built this tower. He had soundproofed every room. Though Pietro wouldn’t care if others did know his soulmate, his beautiful Jemma, was indeed well satisfied in his bed, as he intended to ensure she was; he didn’t want to make Wanda uncomfortable, and she would be the most likely to hear them. Hopefully she’d already put up her mental shields against him or she’d likely be very red-faced about now.

“Beautiful, lovely Jemma,” he murmured, kissing up across her stomach as she sighed and shifted, still trembling a little. “So sweet, you taste so sweet on my tongue. I could do that for ever.”

“Hnnnghh,” she responded ineloquently as he fastened on one of her nipples again, sucking it into his mouth and flicking his tongue against the sensitive point. Her small hands ran down across his shoulders, over his back, and then she hooked her hands under his arms and tugged with surprising strength.

“Get those trousers off _now_ ,” Jemma demanded, making him grin and quirk an eyebrow at her.

“Why, is there something you want, _anđele moj_?”

“I want your penis in me,” she told him quite bluntly.

“Condom?” He wasn’t about to delay or deny her, not when there was nothing he could imagine wanting more.

“Please.”

“I have them here.” He rolled off her quickly, kicked off his trainers and took his socks off at the same time as his pants and shorts, unaware of Jemma staring wide-eyed at his butt, at the tightness and roundness of it, the lean length of his muscled thighs.

Reaching for the bedside table, Pietro pulled out a box, once again silently blessing Stark, whose stocking of the Tower apartments was efficient enough that even this task was taken care of for him.

“Mm,” Jemma’s eyes fastened on Pietro’s cock as he knelt beside her on the bed, thick, hard and jutting proudly as he rolled on the condom. “Yes _please_.” She hooked her thumbs in the sides of her knickers, pushed them down her thighs and kicked them off the bed. He caught them deftly, grinning.

“Maybe I keep these, as a souvenir?”

“What are you, a schoolboy?” she scoffed, laughing, and he chuckled too.

“As long as you promise to wear them for me often.”

“Any time you like,” Jemma smiled up at him and then looked down again at his cock as he jacked it unselfconsciously a couple of times, checking the condom was on properly. “As long as you promise to give me _that_ often.”

“Yours, it’s all for you, _anđele moj_ ,” he promised, “any way, any time you please.”

She made grabby hands at him, so he smiled and knelt back between her thighs, curving his big hands around her slim hips.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Pietro marvelled, incredulous still that this beautiful, brilliant girl should somehow hold the other half of his soul, he who had never taken anything seriously in his life, had never chosen to work hard at school, had been more interested in sports than academia.

And yet - he could feel it, feel the pull between them, the desperate need to be complete with her, the desire that had been there from the very first moment he looked into her eyes, only fanned into a white-hot flame now by coming to know her better. To love her, to hold her and touch her and kiss her… he licked his lips as she lifted her legs and hooked them around his waist, pulling him closer, her hands moving up to his shoulders as he braced himself over her.

“My Jemma,” he said softly, vowing to be gentle. To go slowly, at least until she wanted more…

“Will you just fuck me already!” she wailed, rolling her hips against him, just the tip of his cock rubbing against her pussy.

“Filthy mouth,” he muttered, but he too was eager, could not hold back much longer. He tried to go slow, not force himself inside her too hard or too fast, but Jemma was having none of that. Her legs locked tight, heels digging into his ass, as she lifted her hips up to him quickly, sucking him deep inside.

“ _Јеботе!_ ” Pietro lost his head as slick internal muscles clamped down, Jemma’s body fitting to his perfectly as their groins slammed together. She clung to him, chanting his name, nails digging into his shoulders as she begged him for more, harder, _faster…_

“You want faster, I give you faster,” Pietro grunted, reaching up to grasp hold of the headboard. “I give you faster than any woman has ever had!”

Jemma let go of his shoulders and braced her hands on the headboard too. “Yes,” she panted, eyes locked with his. “Yes, do it, please, Pietro!”

She was stunning with the flush of arousal suffusing her delicate face, her hazel eyes wide and shining as she looked up at him, lips swollen from his kisses. If he hadn’t already been utterly willing to give her anything she asked for, that look would have done it. _Fortunate, then_ , Pietro thought vaguely, _that what she wants is what I am so very desirous of giving her_ …

He wasn’t sure if he might hurt her, if he went _too_ fast. So he was cautious at first, a few slower thrusts, finding the right angle, before accelerating to a speed that would be considered fast for any other man but for Pietro was little more than a slow jogging pace.

“Please,” Jemma panted, fingers clenching on the headboard, trying to rock her hips faster against him. “Please, Pietro, _please_!”

“Anything,” he gritted out, “I give you anything you want, my Jemma…” and he began to move faster, lean hips snapping back and forth at a speed that would have been eye-blurring to Jemma if her eyes hadn’t been closed with pure bliss.

The friction was spectacular - and Pietro was very grateful that the condoms too were Stark-designed, because they’d have been utterly destroyed otherwise long before he brought Jemma to a second screaming orgasm, before rippling, clenching internal muscles drew his own climax from him with a roar, forcing him to still his thrusts at last.

“So good, so good, _anđele moj_ ,” he held himself up, though every muscle was going lax and he wanted nothing more than to collapse on top of her.

“Ummm,” Jemma couldn’t even move, just lay limp and wrecked on the bed as Pietro pulled out of her and collapsed beside her with a groan, one long arm wrapping around her to pull her against him. He buried his face in her neck, lips brushing her collarbone. Mumbling endearments in Sokovian against her damp, heated skin, he stroked his fingers lightly over her stomach.

“What is that you keep calling me?” she asked, when her breathing had slowed enough for her to gasp a word out.

“ _Anđele moj?_ ” Propping himself up on an elbow, he smiled down at her. “Angel. My angel. The first time I saw you, I thought that you looked like an angel, sent to help Wanda. And then you spoke, and I knew you were _my_ angel.”

She reached a still-shaking hand to touch his cheek, feeling the light rasp of his six-o’clock shadow under her fingertips.

“You’re the extraordinary one, Pietro. I’m no angel, I’m nothing special.”

“But you are,” he denied at once, turning his face to kiss at her fingers, tightening his arm around her so that she rolled onto her side facing him, pressed against the length of his body. “You are _everything_ special. Created to be the other half of me, the steadiness to my speed. I did not know what I was running to until I found you, _anđele moj_.”

Jemma stared at Pietro, slightly stunned. He was always so light-hearted, joking, cheerful; she had never heard him speak with such utter sincerity, his blue eyes earnest as he gazed at her. Her fingers stilled on his cheek briefly before she slid them to the back of his neck, into his thick, unruly silver hair, and pulled his face to hers.

Their lips met again, clung hungrily. Pietro’s hand slid down Jemma’s spine, curved over her ass. She lifted an ankle over his thigh, rubbed against him - pulled back to look down in surprise as she felt his cock hardening again already.

Laughing, Pietro rolled to his back, pulling Jemma astride him. “Oh, _anđele moj,_ I knew how it would be. No sooner have I had you than I want you again.”

“I can live with that,” Jemma smirked, grinding wetly down against him, the base of his cock chafing her sopping clit with a delicious friction. Pietro groaned with pleasure, hands settling on the outside of her thighs - and they both gasped.

“Your mark,” Jemma whispered, looking down and seeing the words on the inside of his forearm, in her small, neat script. Her own words had appeared when she was five years old, scrawled sloppily up the outside of her leg just above the knee.

“Jemma,” Pietro’s breathing came faster. “Oh God. Feels so - so good. I want…”

“Yes,” she agreed at once, reaching over to grab another condom, shifting back to free his cock so that she could roll it on. Pietro never removed his hand from her thigh, their marks pressing in contact, the slowly forming bond a blissful ripple of sensation building steadily between them.

It was Pietro’s turn to beg as Jemma’s fingers teased lightly around his balls for a moment, as she rubbed herself along the length of his cock without taking him in. He was panting desperate words in Sokovian, and though she didn’t understand the exact words, his meaning was more than clear, the pleading in his blue eyes undeniable.

“Who has to be patient now?” she smiled down at him, but she didn’t want to wait either, the incomplete bond imparting a sense of urgency that couldn’t be ignored. Carefully she lined up and sank down onto his erect cock, moaning with pure pleasure as the sensitive nerves around her opening sparked pleasure through her body. He was thick enough for it to be a stretch, but of the most wonderful kind. Sinking down to take him to full deep, she smiled at his low cry and began to roll her hips.

Jemma’s eyes closed with bliss as she rode Pietro, and he gazed up at her worshipfully, at her small pert breasts jutting out, her soft lips parted as she moaned with pleasure.

“ _Mи си тако дивна_ ,” he cried out, “Jemma!”

“Yes,” she sobbed in response, feeling the bond suddenly burst to full flower between them - and suddenly understanding, without need of translation, what he was thinking, how _awed_ he was by everything about her.

Shock trickled back along the new bond to Jemma as Pietro discovered that she felt exactly the same way about him, his eyes flying wide, a smile of pure joy stretching his lips.

“Jemma, _anđele moj!_ ”

“Pietro!” she screamed his name back as the ecstasy spiralling between them reached an incredible crescendo.

Stunned and still shaking with ecstasy, they clutched each other close, Jemma lying on Pietro, her cheek against his chest, listening to his heart. It thumped rapidly, but no quicker than a regular human’s after exertion, the scientific part of her brain noted idly. One broad hand stroked slowly down her back, from shoulder to hip, the other rested on her thigh, their soulmarks still in contact.

His heart slowed to a normal resting pace very quickly, but his hand never eased the slow stroking of her back as they lay in silent communion, sharing in the quiet beauty of the new bond.

At last she felt a gentle kiss pressed to the top of her head.

“You need to let me up, _anđele moj_ , so I can get rid of this condom,” Pietro murmured, and though she knew he was right, still she clung a moment longer before reluctantly climbing off and flopping ungracefully onto the bed.

He was reluctant to leave her even for that brief moment, so he used his speed to whiz to the bathroom, dispose of the condom and wash his hands. She was still in the process of lifting the sheet to slip underneath when he whizzed back. He took the opportunity to kiss her on the bottom before she covered it, making her squeak and laugh, trying to bat at him with her hands.

“You are beautiful all over, my Jemma,” he slid into bed beside her, pulling her into his arms, leaning over her to pepper kisses all over her face at ridiculous speeds. “I make it my mission to kiss you all over. Every tiny piece of your beautiful skin. Especially those freckles on your delectable bottom.”

“I do n… do I?” she raised her eyebrows as he smirked at her.

“I think you do. I shall have to look closer.”

Jemma burst out laughing as he tried to roll her over. “You’re such a troll!”

Pietro smiled down at her, blue eyes shining, his silvery hair even more ruffled than usual. Reaching up, she grabbed two handfuls and pulled him down for a kiss, which started off firm but soon became slow, lingering and tender.

At least, until Pietro’s stomach rumbled, and Jemma pulled back, laughing at his chagrined expression. “I think you need to refuel that metabolism.”

His mouth quirked up. “I am afraid so. But after I have - then I intend to spend the whole night in your arms, my Jemma. Discovering exactly how you like to be pleasured.”

Her eyes widened as he spoke, her lips parted, and she licked at them before saying “I make a mean sandwich, you know. Do you like pesto aioli?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _anđele moj_ \- my angel
> 
>  _Боже, тако си лепа_ \- God, you are so lovely
> 
>  _Јеботе! -_ hell!
> 
>  _ти си тако дивна_ \- you’re so stunning/amazing/beautiful
> 
> (All Serbian mistakes attributed to Google Translate :) )
> 
> Next up will be Darcy/Hunter, which I know a fair few of you have been waiting patiently for. Me too. I LOVE writing Hunter! Anyway, this was voted for by JocastaSilver, phoenix_173, Spitfire303, tj1547, pretzel_logic, BadWolf81+ Elliesmeow, Lavanyalabelle, alecksanduhrah, boater, shikasgirl10, Ellibell, MegaVeraFanfics, AlekWalker, Kristina’sMyName, Voldemort’s Dark Lady, UrsulaR, Daelin, mnemosynes_tears, Rogue, Yasmania, coffeeandtv, superhero_heart, MissNikki2U, Unwillinglyable, Kitrazzle, r_blok, Katiekrm, bookworm123, Greennonmonster, mariegilbert, krazykat00, Aerinax, Jennavive, ashwinder, SMC9, Mrs Kyle Hobbes, EmilySeaShells and Taradawn.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Check out the updated voting list in the next chapter, but please don’t forget to come back to THIS chapter to place your vote!**


	26. Darcy/Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follows from [_Chapter 4, Get Down!_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/5941346)which was one of the very first Shorts I wrote and which many people tell me is still one of their favourites.
> 
> I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to writing this. I ADORE writing Hunter. I don’t have to edit my dialogue to Americanisms with him, and he’s such a delightfully sarcastic little shit. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did!
> 
> Voted for by JocastaSilver, phoenix_173, Spitfire303, tj1547, pretzel_logic, BadWolf81, Elliesmeow, Lavanyalabelle, alecksanduhrah, boater, shikasgirl10, Ellibell, MegaVeraFanfics, AlekWalker, Kristina’sMyName, Voldemort’s Dark Lady, UrsulaR, Daelin, mnemosynes_tears, Rogue, Yasmania, coffeeandtv, superhero_heart, MissNikki2U, Unwillinglyable, Kitrazzle, r_blok, Katiekrm, bookworm123, Greennonmonster, mariegilbert, krazykat00, Aerinax, Jennavive, ashwinder, SMC9, Mrs Kyle Hobbes EmilySeaShells and Taradawn.

  [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/hunter%20bare%20chest%203_zpsm9a3pbfq.jpg.html)

"Do I call you Lance, then?" Darcy asked as Hunter eased back from that slow, gentle first kiss, and lifted his head.

"I'd rather you just call me Hunter, luv," he smiled down at her. “Most people do.”

Darcy smiled and snuggled against his chest. It was chilly outside in the London evening, she hadn't brought a coat out with her.

Opening his leather jacket, Hunter wrapped it around Darcy. He pressed a kiss against her forehead.

"So how were you planning to find me, then?" Darcy asked curiously. "Since all you knew was my name."

"I do work for SHIELD, y'know," he smirked. "One of my best mates is a great hacker."

Darcy smiled again. "I thought SHIELD were all gone, though."

"Bet you thought Coulson was dead too."

"Point," she conceded.

Hunter's phone beeped in his pocket. He sighed. "You know what that's going to mean."

Darcy closed her eyes, cuddled closer to him for a moment. "I know. When can I see you again?"

"I dunno, darlin'," Hunter said. "But Coulson's a reasonable sort. He knows how it is with soulmates, I'll talk to him and we'll do our best to work something out."

"Soon, I hope," Darcy said.

His lips pressed on hers again, warm and gentle. She realised that she could easily lose herself in him, in his touch, when she found that he had pressed her up against the wall, his hands in her hair, his groin grinding slowly against hers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jane took one look at Darcy’s swollen lips as she let herself back into the apartment and grinned broadly. “Who’s got a hot new soulmate, then?”

She couldn’t quite keep the grin off her face. Thor got up and came over, stooping to envelop her in one of his trademark huge hugs, lifting her off her feet.

“You are truly blessed, Lightning Sister. To find the other half of one’s soul is a gift given to so few. A thousand years did I search to find my Lady Jane.”

“I know, big guy,” she squeaked a little struggling to breathe, until he put her down. Resettling her glasses, she poked him lightly in the chest - she’d long since learned that poking harder would seriously hurt her finger - and said; “So how long have you known that Son of Coul wasn’t actually dead, then?”

Thor had the grace to look a bit shamefaced. “It was not my secret to tell. Lady Sif told me - she was not supposed to tell either, but Sif has ever been a poor liar. I understand that it is necessary for SHIELD’s leader to remain in the shadows. A man who everyone thinks to be dead has a great advantage over his enemies.”

“Hmmm,” Darcy gave him narrowed eyes. Thor returned his best Innocent Labrador expression. “Oh don’t give me that. You’re over a thousand years old. There is nothing innocent about you. Especially not considering the noises you two make in Jane’s room.”

Thor grinned, and Jane hastily butted in again. “There’s one good thing about it, though, Darce; if Hunter is one of Coulson’s people you can be quite sure he’s not HYDRA.”

“That’s true,” Darcy conceded. “I’d like to think that he couldn’t be a bad guy anyway because he’s my soulmate.”

“For a certainty he could not, Lightning Sister!” Thor boomed cheerfully. “Come, we must celebrate!”

“Do not let me pester him for any of that mead when I’m drunk again,” Darcy begged Jane. “The hangover last time _really_ wasn’t worth it.”

Of course she still woke up with a hangover, even though Jane absolutely assured her that she really, definitely, hadn’t had any of the mead. Just a lot of champagne.

“And we’re moving to New York!” Jane announced brightly - far too brightly considering the little men hammering away in Darcy’s skull.

“How nice.” It took several minutes and another cup of coffee for Darcy’s brain to catch up. “Wait. When you say _we’re moving to New York_ …” she peered at Jane.

“Tony Stark offered me lab space and all the Avengers are moving into the Tower now refurbishment is completed. Including Thor.”

"And me?"

"Of course you," Jane shook her head fondly. "You're my _life_ manager, not just my lab manager, Darcy, I couldn't do without you."

Darcy smiled. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as we're done packing."

“Then we better get started!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Avengers Tower was even more _amazing_ than Darcy had ever imagined. Tony Stark was a lot more _annoying_ , but she could put up with him, at least as long as he kept paying for all the good stuff and didn’t aggravate Jane too much.

Hunter, though, still hadn't put in an appearance by the time that they had been in New York for a month, despite regular emails talking of nothing much. Darcy asked him regularly both where he was and when he could see her but he always said that he wasn’t allowed to answer the first and he wasn’t sure on the second. She was just on the verge of swallowing her pride and asking Stark to track him down when he turned up out of the blue one evening. Bleeding.

"Oh my God, what happened to you?" JARVIS had called Darcy down to the lobby with the message that she had a visitor. She really hadn't expected to see Hunter sitting in one of the chairs bleeding quietly into the expensive fabric from a long gash on his forearm.

"Hazards of the trade, luv," Hunter smiled up at her. "I don't suppose Stark has a medical facility on-site?"

Darcy rushed him straight upstairs to Banner's labs and within a few minutes Bruce was carefully stitching the long, but fortunately shallow, gash while Hunter sat with gritted teeth, having refused any painkillers. At least the view was good, distracting her from the disturbing amounts of blood. Hunter had been wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt and Bruce had to cut it off to treat the wound, revealing a very nicely muscled chest and washboard abs. Darcy failed to restrain the urge to lick her lips, especially when Bruce asked Hunter to hold the arm up so he could bandage it after stitching. That did very nice things for Hunter’s chest muscles. Very nice indeed.

"Do you have some moral objection to antibiotics, too?" Bruce interrupted her reverie by asking, brandishing a syringe at Hunter.

"Nah, I'll take all that good stuff," Hunter nodded. Grinned at Darcy. “Does that one go in my arse?”

“It does,” Bruce agreed. “Darcy…?”

“Oh no, I’m staying. If he’s going to rock up bleeding on my doorstep I’m going to get paid in eye candy if nothing else,” Darcy said firmly, making both men chuckle. Hunter smirked at her.

“You’re welcome to stare at my arse as much as you want, luv.”

“Just no touching. Save that for when I’m not forced to be a witness,” Bruce said dryly, leaning over to inject Hunter as the other man bared a buttock. A very nice, taut, leanly muscled buttock which Darcy appreciated the sight of very much. And mourned the loss of as Hunter pulled his combat pants back up.

Looking from one to the other of them, Bruce shrugged. "I'll leave you in Darcy's capable hands, then. Now for God’s sake get out of my lab before the sexual tension between you two makes something explode."

Hunter followed Darcy quite placidly down to her apartment, and when they got there paused to look around the comfortable space, nodding to himself. "Stark's done pretty well by you, I see."

"Why wouldn't you let Bruce give you any painkillers?" Darcy still couldn't get over the fact that Hunter had refused. "I know how much getting stitches hurts!"

"It's not so bad," Hunter denied. "Besides, if I did, I've learned the hard way that taking them does funny things to the male physiology."

Darcy gave him an utterly bemused. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you see," Hunter's arm slipped around her waist and pressed her back against the wall as he tipped his head down towards hers, "if I'd let him shoot me full of drugs, it's quite possible that I wouldn't have been able to carry out any of the plans that I'd made for the next time I saw you."

Still confused, Darcy shook her head. At least, until he ground his groin hard into hers , and she felt the very unmistakable evidence of his arousal.

“Oh,” suddenly she felt like a complete idiot. “Oh, you mean…”

“Prob’ly wouldn’t have been able to get it up for you, darlin’. Despite how utterly fucking gorgeous I think you are.” Hunter smirked down at her before lowering his head just a little further and slanting his mouth over hers.

Darcy _melted_. He _really_ knew how to kiss, and pinned between his leanly muscled body and the wall was her new favourite place to be, she decided. At least until he started backing up, not breaking the kiss, and pulled her down to the couch and into his lap.

“Nope, this is my new favourite,” she mumbled dreamily as Hunter started kissing down her neck, tipping her back against the arm of the couch. “Like this. Couch good.”

“You’re mumblin’ there, luv, was that _please take my blouse off, Hunter_? Couldn’t quite hear you.”

Darcy laughed, reaching up to run her hands over his short hair. It felt lovely under her fingers, slightly suede-like, almost as nice as the slightly bristlier texture of his facial hair against her throat. She was going to have stubble burn tomorrow, and she was absolutely relishing the thought.

“You could take my blouse off,” she agreed.

“Good, because I’ve not been able to keep my mind off these magnificent tits,” Hunter confessed, unfastening the buttons straining over said bosom hastily. “Haarrrrghhhh,” was all he could get out as he spread the blouse open to reveal a royal-blue satin bra, doing a remarkable job of showing off Darcy’s considerable cleavage.

“New York has really good lingerie shops,” Darcy agreed, “and Stark pays a very generous salary, even to lowly scientist-minders.”

“God bless Tony Stark,” Hunter said reverently, pulling Darcy up to straddle his lap and bury his face in her cleavage. “And God definitely blessed you, you magnificent woman,” his voice was muffled.

Darcy’s laugh turned into a gasp as he deftly unsnapped her bra, her breasts tumbling free and making him moan with even greater pleasure.

“If you didn’t figure it out yet, I’m definitely a boobs man,” he pulled back long enough to glance up at her, brown eyes dancing with mischief as he filled his hands to overflowing with her breasts. “Since I’ve had a remark about breaking your boobs written on me since I was a kid, I think it’s definitely required for me to check them out thoroughly. Make sure they’re not actually broken.”

His thumbs were swiping back and forth over her nipples as he spoke, chafing them to aching points, and Darcy could only nod. “What-whatever you like,” she said, her voice a bit quavery.

“Now there’s an offer I’m not gunna refuse,” he grinned delightedly before catching one nipple in his mouth, his hand slipping to the small of Darcy’s back to support her as he bent her back a little.

She made incoherently delighted noises, her hands settling on his bare shoulders, fingers curving into claws to grip on hard as he suckled enthusiastically at her breast, tongue curling around her nipple, his fingers squeezing and tugging on the other one in rhythmical time with his mouth  until she wanted to scream from the sheer pleasure of it. Only when he let her nipple out of his mouth for a moment did her head clear a little, enough for her to realise that she was gripping him tightly with her thighs and grinding against him.

Hunter’s face was flushed, his pupils blown wide with lust as he looked up at her. “You’re magnificent,” he said again. “Just fuckin’ magnificent.” And his mouth closed on the other breast.

Darcy sobbed helplessly, clawing at his shoulders. “Please, Hunter - please.”

“Tell me what you want,” he left off suckling only long enough to say.

“Want you. Want you inside me, right now.”

“Here? Christ yes, sit on my lap and bounce those fabulous boobs in my face, why am I even thinking about arguing with you,” he muttered when she nodded frantically in agreement.

“Why...argue?” she gasped.

“Thought maybe you’d like a bed and, I dunno, long and slow.”

“Quick and dirty on the couch works too,” Darcy shook her head, reaching down between them to unfasten his pants, as his deft fingers worked the button at the back of her skirt. Which had ridden right up her thighs anyway. “And it’s what I want right now too _oh yum_ ,” because as she opened his fly, his cock sprang free into her hand, hard and hot and eager.

“Bloody hell,” Hunter panted against her breasts, his fingers clenching on her hips briefly before he twisted around, spilling her onto her back on the couch. Darcy yelped before realising his intent, as he peeled down her skirt and pulled off her shoes. She winced as she remembered that she was wearing thick and rather unflattering tights - Avengers Tower was very over-airconditioned and none of the super-powered residents seemed to feel the cold. Hunter didn’t seem to care, though, just peeling them down, pressing kisses to her stomach and thighs as he did.

At least she was wearing panties that matched her pretty bra. They too were soon decorating the floor, though, Hunter kneeling at her feet, his hands on her thighs, eyes on hers, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Oh absolutely hell yes,” Darcy parted her thighs eagerly as he moved forward between them - and at that exact moment remembered that she was really quite overdue for a wax. “Damn you for not calling and telling me you were coming anyway,” she mumbled.

“What?” Hunter blinked, distracted, looked up at her. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t anticipated my undercover identity getting burned and having no choice but to make a run for the Tower.”

“What?” startled, Darcy blinked at him. “That’s why you’re here?”

“It’s why I haven’t called you either, I’m sorry, luv. It was an important mission. Coulson promised when it was over, I could transfer.”

“Transfer?” His fingers were walking up the inside of her thighs, making it hard to think.

“Yup,” he grinned up at her. “I’m gonna come work for the Avengers, Darcy. Live right here in the Tower. I’ll be within easy reach - any time you want me.” And he dived in, not caring in the slightest about her pubic hair, his thumbs parting her fleshy lips so that he could get his tongue in nice and deep, taste the slick juices dampening her bush.

_So he hasn’t been avoiding me, he’s been on a mission_ … was about all Darcy’s brain managed to process, before Hunter’s exploring tongue shut her thoughts down entirely.

“Ahhhh,” she hummed with pleasure, her hands landing on his closely-cropped hair, holding him close, not that he seemed remotely inclined to pull back. He made a delighted sound himself in response, his brown eyes still gazing up at her, watching her breasts heave as she took quick, panting breaths.

_Fucking hell, she’s glorious_. Determinedly, he set about pleasuring Darcy, scraping his teeth lightly over her clit, suckling and licking at the tiny pearl he uncovered as he pressed the hood back with his upper lip. She moaned and writhed, fingers massaging his scalp, silently telling him what she liked as he worked her steadily up towards climax, a pair of fingers sliding slowly into her and crooking to lightly tap at her G-spot.

“Oh fuck, oh Hunterrrr!” Darcy shouted suddenly, her hips jerking right up off the couch, and he felt the sudden spasming of her internal muscles on his fingers.

Juices filled his mouth and he drank greedily; kept on stroking and licking, easing Darcy gently through the climax as her body slowly relaxed, her hands falling away from his head.

Sliding his fingers from Darcy, Hunter sat back on his heels and sucked them into his mouth, licking the taste of her from his fingers as he watched her tremble and sigh, her eyes closed, lips parted.

“Get your pants off and get up here,” Darcy demanded after a few moments, finally getting her breath back.

“Yes, ma’am,” Hunter said with a quiet chuckle, reaching down to a pocket in his cargo pants as he stood, pulling out a condom. It took him a moment to unlace his boots and strip off the rest of his clothes, by which time Darcy had opened her eyes and was watching him, lazily playing with her breasts. Staring lustfully, he was all fingers and thumbs trying to get the condom on.

He had a tattoo on the inside of his bicep, Darcy noticed as he finally got the condom on and reached for her, sliding onto the couch beside her and pulling her back onto his lap, straddling his thighs. Touching it curiously, she traced the design, a dagger with wings coming out of the hilt, the words _Who Dares Wins_ written beneath.

“Army,” he glanced down at the tatt. “My old regimental symbol and motto. The SAS.”

“You were in the _SAS_?” Darcy’s eyes bugged out with shock. She’d spent long enough in London to know how revered the Special Air Service were in the UK; highly trained commandos the equal of any in the world.

“Sweetheart,” he lifted her hips in strong hands, pulling her closer to guide her down on his cock, “I was an _officer_.”

Darcy’s eyes rolled back in her head as she slid down on Hunter. He wasn’t particularly above average side but _hoo boy_ did he ever know what to do with that cock. He was hitting all the good spots, his hands on her hips adjusting the angle minutely as his own lifted up to her.

“Ahhhh, god, that’s so good!” she panted, clutching at his shoulders, and he chuckled a little breathlessly and ducked his head to press his face into her cleavage.

“Bloody awesome, you little beauty,” he mumbled joyously, hips rolling as he plunged deep. It was Darcy’s turn to laugh and she grabbed his head, deliberately squeezing her elbows together to squeeze his face between her boobs. Hunter let out a muffled, ecstatic moan.

“This is how I want to die.”

“Not just yet, you don’t!” Pressing her knees to his hips, Darcy flexed her thigh muscles, lifted herself up a little way before pushing down hard. Hunter groaned and bucked up against her; she bit her lip against the swiftly rising tide of pleasure and repeated the movement, letting go of his head and grabbing onto the back of the couch, giving herself something to hang onto as she rode him.

She soon found a rhythm that worked for both of them; at least it was definitely working for her and Hunter seemed to be enjoying it too, considering the gasps and groans he was making as her boobs bounced in his face. His hands on her hips helped her along, slightly adjusting the angle every now and then, increasing the pleasure every time he did until Darcy was crying out with every stroke. Her eyelids fluttered closed, her mouth fell open and she gave a long, low, wordless cry.

“That’s it,” Hunter gasped, feeling slick muscles begin to clench around him, “oh fucking hell, yes, gorgeous, don’t you stop…” she was stuttering, losing her rhythm, so he took over, grasping her hips and thrusting hard up into her, seeking for a nipple with his mouth and sucking on it thirstily.

The added sensation was just perfect to tip Darcy over the edge. She fell, screaming with ecstasy, dimly felt Hunter jerk and gasp against her, his arms wrapping around her tightly. Collapsing against him, shivering with reaction, she rested her cheek on his shoulder and clung tightly.

Gently, Hunter smoothed her hair back from her sweating face, tucking it behind her ears. “You okay, darlin’?” he asked softly.

“Ummm,” Darcy hummed happily, and he chuckled, pressing kisses against her shoulder and neck.

“Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” He sought her mouth, kissed her long and slow before putting his hands back to her hips. Lifting her off him easily, he laid her down on the couch. “Back in a minute, luv. Um, which way’s the bathroom?”

She waved a languid hand, just lying back and appreciating the back view as he headed across the room. _Wow, that was one hell of an ass_. Neat and tight. He had a runner’s build, she thought, spare and lean, no unnecessary bulk, but she’d felt the strength in him, the easy way he had lifted her hardly-waiflike self.

The front view was pretty impressive as he came walking back, too. Feeling suddenly self-conscious about being nude in front of a man with apparently zero body fat, Darcy grabbed at the blanket on the back of the couch, hastily pulled it over her.

Hunter paused as he saw Darcy’s action, guessed at the reason for it - and determined right then and there that his soulmate was never going to be in any doubt as to how much he adored her figure.

“Come ‘ere,” he grabbed the edge of the blanket and promptly snuggled under it with her, pulling her atop his body on the narrow couch. “God, you’ve got the most fucking amazin’ body, luv.” His hands roamed down her sides, shaping her hourglass curves. “Like an old-style pinup girl. I had such a thing for Sophia Loren when I was a lad, always hoped my soulmate would look like her. Hit the jackpot with you, didn’t I?”

“You - think so?” Darcy blushed, rather surprised.

“Shit, yeah,” a quick twist of his body and she was suddenly underneath, Hunter tossing the blanket off and grinning down at her. “I wanna worship you like the goddess of love you are, Venus.”

“That sounds rather nice,” she admitted laughingly, “I’ve always wanted to be worshipped.”

“I am your devoted servant, my goddess.” Hunter grinned, and then, slowly, dipped his head to lick at her nipple. “I’ll start here,” he murmured, bright brown eyes gleaming with passion and mischief as he looked up at her, “but I’m gonna worship _every inch_ of you with my tongue.”

“That’s quite a lot of inches,” Darcy murmured, still self-conscious.

“Hell yeah, and every one of them delicious.” He smiled lovingly at her before bending his head to begin making good on his promise. No matter how long it took, he was going to prove to Darcy that she was perfect in his eyes.

Absolutely perfect.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As always, the voting list is in the next chapter, but please come back to THIS chapter to vote.**
> 
> **And guys, PLEASE CHECK CAREFULLY that your name isn’t already listed against the ship you’re voting for. You can’t vote for it again, and since I don’t normally tally the votes until right before the next chapter goes up, I don’t have time to contact you and invite you to re-vote. There were AT LEAST 8 people who wasted their vote on the last chapter by picking a ship they’d already voted for!**
> 
> **Next up is Rumlow/Beth, as voted for by shiniest-warboy, PrincessPrettyPants, QueenIsabella, Luanaks, SoupShue,  MrsBlack27, Doc, hopelesslygeeky, Omoidashu, Elliesmeow, ashtreeowl, darklou91, mnemosynes_tears, Ellibell, Artemis_Day, bloominidiot, Shingalala, Maejae, Lvngd, Voldemort’s Dark Lady, Isla_Singer, SoupShue and MintChipandBooks.**
> 
> **I’ve been looking forward to this one A LOT. SInce I’ve known for AGES that Rumlow’s new sheriff’s uniform and shiny boots will definitely feature.**
> 
> **As will his handcuffs...**
> 
>  


	27. Rumlow/Beth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continues from Chapter 129, [_Tall Dark and Dastardly_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/8323891).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you need a refresher, basically it ended up with Rumlow turning up as the sheriff in Beth’s Kansas hometown.
> 
> And though Frank Grillo did indeed play a police chief in _The Gates_ , he looked far too young, pretty and clean-shaven. I’ll put a picture of that in here, but here also are a couple of manips of Sheriff Rumlow, as he appears now, to help with your visualisation of the story!
> 
> Requested by shiniest-warboy, PrincessPrettyPants, QueenIsabella, Luanaks, SoupShue,  MrsBlack27, Doc, hopelesslygeeky, Omoidashu, Elliesmeow, ashtreeowl, darklou91, mnemosynes_tears, Ellibell, Artemis_Day, bloominidiot, Shingalala, Maejae, Lvngd, Voldemort’s Dark Lady, Isla_Singer, SoupShue and MintChipandBooks.

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/Office%20Rumlow_zpsnsieo6bw.jpg.html)[](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/Rumlow/Sheriffs%20RUmlow_zpsc4zdyq0d.jpg.html)

Brock was just bending his head to kiss Beth - and she was just preparing to melt into his arms - when the phone in his pocket rang. She jumped back, eyes wide, and he cursed and fished it out.

“Rumlow,” he said curtly, listened for a moment, frowning, his lips tightening as he looked at Beth. “All right. Hold her there. I’ll be there in ten.” Hanging up, he slid the phone back into his pocket. “Beth, I’m sorry. I’m on duty. I stopped by because - well, because I wanted to see you, and Shelby was very insistent…” he looked slightly bemused, making Beth grin.

“She’s trying to set you up with a nice local girl.”

“Oh,” he blinked, and then laughed. “Are you gonna tell her that we’re soulmates? How will you explain the fact that you didn’t know I was here?”

“I’ll tell her I thought you wouldn’t want to give up your big-city career, and that I knew I didn’t want to stay. That we fought and I thought it was over. She’ll assume you’ve made a grand romantic gesture, changing careers…”

“Well, technically, I did,” Brock shrugged with a little smirk.

Beth hesitated. “It - your former career - you once said that you couldn’t risk anyone coming after me to get to you…”

“Nobody will, Beth. There’s nobody left to come after me.” He took a deep breath, looked up at the night sky. “After we first met, I knew I couldn’t carry on as I had been. I tracked down Nick Fury, the former head of SHIELD - who isn’t dead, contrary to news reports. Turned double agent. Triple agent, I suppose, technically… anyway.” He shrugged, looking back at her. “It’s over. This,” he swept a hand around, “is my version of the Witness Protection Program. I just got to pick where I went and what I did.”

She nodded, understanding. “It’s all right, Brock. I get that you don’t want to talk about it, that you - used to work for bad people. Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For changing sides.”

He closed his eyes as though in pain, and then reached out to take her hand, lifting it to his lips, kissing her fingertips. “I should never have been on the wrong side in the first place, Beth. I’ve done my best to atone…”

“It’s all right.” Stepping closer, she lifted her free hand to lightly brush her fingers over his stubbled cheek.

They were staring into each others’ eyes again, and this time Beth was _sure_ he was going to kiss her.

The interruption this time came from her brother. “Elizabeth Ann Jackson, you better not be about to kiss that man on my front porch!”

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Beth muttered under her breath as Brock stepped back, laughing. He tipped his hat to Derek, who saluted him with a beer bottle, before heading down the steps and going to his police cruiser.

No sooner had the car pulled out of the driveway before both her other brothers and their wives were all over her, demanding to know what was going on.

“He’s my soulmate,” she admitted, laughing at their excited enthusiasm. “We met in New York…”

“And you didn’t _tell_ us?” Shelby screeched.

“I didn’t think it would ever work out. He had a big-city career, and he’s a New Yorker, from Queens - and I knew I didn’t want to stay.” She remembered that tiny snippet Brock had told her once when she was ill. He’d sung a lullaby in Italian, surprising her, and when pressed admitted that he came from Italian roots in Queens, though he had no close family still living.

“He threw it in for you, that’s so _romantic_ ,” Derek said, his tone mocking, and fled as all the women turned on him.

“It _is_ romantic, don’t listen to him! Oh, I knew it, I knew you two would be perfect for each other,” Shelby chattered, grabbing Beth’s arm and steering her back inside. “Another wedding in the family, how wonderful, we can hold it at the homestead…”

“Whoa, whoa!” Beth laughed at her sister-in-law’s jumping the gun. “That’s a long way off, Shel! We really barely know each other. It still might not work out…”

“Elizabeth Ann, you better get a ring on that man’s finger as soon as possible. I swear, every unmarried woman in town has been sniffin’ round our new sheriff, and not a few married ones as should know better!”

Beth stopped laughing, a sudden pang of jealousy twisting her stomach into a knot. “Really?”

“Oh come on have you _looked_ at him?” Charlotte scoffed. “Any woman alive would want to tap that. Not that he’s shown the slightest bit of interest. And now we know why.” Her smirk was the slightest bit vicious. “Josie Lamont was swearin’ up and down that she’d catch his eye.”

Her high school nemesis, and a large part of the reason she’d left Kansas in the first place. There was a nasty cold lump in Beth’s throat. “I thought Josie married Barry Caulfield?”

“She did, and she divorced him not six months later. But I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about, sugar,” Shelby hugged her happily. “I saw the way that man was lookin’ at you.”

“Yeah, like he wanted to eat you alive!” Charlotte giggled, and Beth flushed red with embarrassment.

“I think you’ve both been at the wine.”

“It _is_ a party,” her third sister-in-law, Claire, the quietest of the three, smiled at her. “ _Your_ party. So come on, guest of honour. Now we’ve got your love life sorted out, let’s get to having some _fun_. We’ve _missed_ you, Beth.”

She couldn’t help but smile fondly at them and let them draw her in, Charlotte pressing a glass of wine into her hand. “All right, all right. Now tell me, when did Jacob Junior get so big, Clare? I swear he’s all the way up to my shoulder!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her brother Jacob walked her home after the party ended. All three of her brothers had begged her to move in with their families when she told them she was coming home, but Beth had put her foot firmly down. She had a small legacy from their grandmother, had asked them to find her something nice, and had returned home to find a lovely little house, freshly decorated and even furnished, just a few streets from the town centre. She was fairly sure it had cost a whole lot more than her legacy had been, but none of her family would even discuss it. She even had a choice of jobs waiting for her when she was ready; Jacob’s receptionist at his vet practice was leaving, and Thomas claimed he always needed more salespeople at the feed store.

“I’m glad you’re home, Beth,” Jacob said, startling her from her reverie. “And Sheriff Rumlow, he seems like a good guy.”

“I hope so,” Beth said with a smile. “It’s good to _be_ home.”

Jacob gave her a hug, walked her all the way to her front door and saw her inside before setting off down the path again. Beth closed the door and locked it, smiling to herself, kicking out of her high heels and turning to switch the light on.

Brock was sitting on her couch.

She _almost_ screamed, but managed to suppress it. “You have _got_ to stop doing this to me!”

“Hey,” he smirked at her. “I’m not pointing a gun at you this time.”

“You ass!” Unable to help a grin at his cheeky reference to their first meeting, she walked over to him, straddled his legs and sat down on his lap. Brock’s smirk widened to a proper smile.

“Sorry if I gave you a fright, beautiful.”

“I might be persuaded to forgive you.” Beth smiled at him - and suddenly noticed the lipstick on his neck, as he tipped his face up to look at her. She stiffened, even as his hands slid to her waist.

“What is it?” Brock, alert to her every expression, saw the suddenly wooden look on her face.

“Where did you go, from the party?”

“The police station. I told you I was. I just got off duty fifteen minutes ago, thought I’d come over here and see if you were still awake. When I realised you weren’t back yet, I thought I’d wait for you. Beth, what is it?” She was withdrawing from him, and Brock didn’t have a clue why. “What’s the matter?”

Wary blue eyes studied him before she said “Brock, you’ve got lipstick on your neck. And I know I didn’t put it there.”

“What? Oh for God’s sake, that stupid bitch,” he slapped a hand at his neck, wiped ineffectually at the mark. “Beth, it’s this silly woman, she’s why I got called away. Got picked up DUI and told one of my men that she was a _personal_ friend of mine.”

Beth studied him a moment before taking the handkerchief he’d fished from his pocket and wiping the fuschia-pink smear away for him. “And is she?”

“No, I’ve met her all of twice before! Silly bitch. Anyway, the moment I walked in she practically threw herself at me. Slobbered all over me.” He made a disgusted face.

“And?”

“So I booked her for the DUI, added a charge of wasting police time, and left her to sober up in the cells.”

Beth grinned at that, relaxing a little bit. “I don’t suppose her name was Josie Lamont?”

“Yes! How could you know that?” Brock looked startled.

“Charlotte told me she’d been makin’ a fool of herself over you.” Beth ducked her head a bit sheepishly. “That girl made my teenage years a misery. And I’m quite sure she wouldn’t balk at stealin’ another woman’s soulmate.”

Suddenly understanding, Brock smiled. He reached up, put one big hand to Beth’s cheek. “She never had a chance with me,” he told her gently. “There’s never going to be anyone else but you for me, Beth. Not ever.”

Beth melted at the sincerity in his eyes, his voice. She swayed towards him unconsciously and he pulled her close, one strong arm wrapping around her, his other hand tangling in her thick blonde hair. He said her name once, hoarsely, just before their lips met.

He’d dreamed of this moment for so long that he could hardly believe it was actually happening. Beth, _his Beth_ , on his lap, in his arms, kissing him back just as hungrily as he kissed her, her slender fingers running into his hair and gripping tightly. She was feeling possessive, he realised suddenly as she wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine, and gloried in the feeling.

She’d also had a little too much to drink. He could taste the wine in her mouth. And while he wanted nothing more than to take her to bed, make her his just as much as he already was hers, she was almost certainly past the point of informed consent. With an inaudible, resigned sigh, Brock tugged Beth gently off his lap and snuggled her into his side, petting her hair and talking inane nonsense to her until her deep breathing and softly relaxed muscles told him that she was fast asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beth woke up in her own bed, quite alone, and with a pounding headache. Groaning, she rolled over and squinted at the clock, only to find it obscured by a glass of water with a folded sheet of paper propped up against it.

Shoving herself upright, she smiled to see the Tylenol packet beside the glass. She washed two down with the water before unfolding the note.

_You look beautiful when you sleep, angel. I’ll see you later on. B._

Smiling to herself, hugging her pillow, Beth snuggled down into bed - before suddenly deciding that she’d like to go and surprise Brock at work. Maybe take him something. Cookies…

Five minutes later she was in the shower washing her hair while the oven heated up, and an hour after that she was walking into the police station with a spring in her step and a pan of still-warm brownies in her hands.

Just as Brock was escorting Josie Lamont out.

“Brock, this is all a misunderstandin’,” Josie was claiming. “ _Do_ let me make it up to you. Come around to my place this evenin’, I’ll cook you dinner. I make a mean pot roast.” She fluttered long eyelashes up at Brock, put a hand tipped with clawlike, garishly painted false nails on his arm.

Beth saw red. “Proposition my soulmate again and I’ll turn _you_ into pot roast,” she snapped.

Josie’s mouth fell open as she saw Beth. Brock grinned and stepped forward, pulling his arm away from Josie. “Darling. You made it,” taking the pan of brownies from her hands, he passed it to the gaping desk sergeant, seized Beth by the waist, bent her back over his arm and didn’t stop kissing her until long after Josie had stormed out of the building.

By the time he let her up for air almost the entire police department had turned up to watch and were cheering and clapping loudly. Scarlet-cheeked, Beth hid her face against Brock’s chest, but he only laughed, pulling her past the cheering crowd and into the back, into his office, where he closed the door and locked it.

“Thank God you turned up, beautiful. I had the terrible feeling that she was about to turn into the Mother from _Alien_ and bite my head off.”

“She’s the only person who’s ever tempted me to violence,” Beth confessed.

“I can see why.” Brock grinned down at her, edging her back against the wall. “Don’t think I’m only glad to see you because you got rid of her once and for all, though.” His eyelids drooped, giving him a hungry, sensual look, his voice lowered to a smoky rasp.

“Damn right I did,” Beth agreed breathlessly. That _look_. She felt as though she was about to melt into a puddle at his feet. “You’re mine. She’s not getting _anything_ from you.”

“Except in handcuffs if she gives me any more trouble.”

“No!” Beth said, before her brain caught up with her mouth.

“Hmm?” Brock arched an eyebrow at her curiously. She looked away, cheeks burning a dull red again. “Wait. Are you saying… you’d be jealous if I put my handcuffs on her?”

She couldn’t make a sound come out.

“Well, well, well,” Brock purred against her neck as she kept her face resolutely turned away from him. “That’s an interesting tidbit.”

Beth could feel just how _interesting_ he found it. Considering how firmly he had her pressed against the wall with his body. That hard, magnificently muscled body which had been haunting her dreams ever since their first meeting. She whimpered in her throat as he nibbled on her neck.

“I like the idea of having you handcuffed and at my mercy,” Brock murmured in her ear. “Shall I put them on you now?”

Beth heard the clink as Brock pulled the cuffs from his belt. Her knees went weak and she clutched at him for support, only catching hold of his shirt as he moved back. A moment later the cuffs snapped onto her wrists and she looked up at him wide-eyed.

“Any time you want me to take these off, all you have to do is say so, sweetheart,” Brock reassured her. “Okay?”

A little nervous, Beth nodded; but she could already feel herself beginning to bubble between her legs. Brock glanced around the office, tugged on the cuffs to draw her over to his desk. Closed the laptop on it and shoved it to one side before sitting down in the big office chair and drawing Beth down to sit on his lap, facing away from him.

“Hands on the desk, Miss Jackson,” he ordered, and she shivered at the note of command in his voice, obeying him hastily. “That’s it. I’m gonna pat you down now. Make sure you aren’t carrying any concealed weapons.”

Beth sucked in a shaky breath as his hands smoothed down over her shoulders lightly. It was a hot day; she’d worn only a little strappy sundress that buttoned all the way down the front, so it was bare skin his firm palms were sliding over. Goosebumps sprang up in the wake of his touch, especially as he began to kiss the top of her back at the same time, warm lips pressing slow heated kisses from her nape working down her spine.

“No weapons, officer,” she said, her voice high and shaky.

“I don’t know about that. These are some pretty dangerous curves,” his hands landed on her waist, moved up and forwards to cup her breasts. Squeezed gently at her nipples through the thin cotton.

Beth whimpered helplessly as Brock’s deft fingers flicked open a button. Then another, and a third, spreading the top of her dress open, baring her breasts, since she’d forgone wearing a bra. He pulled her back against his chest, looking down over her shoulder as he rolled both nipples between finger and thumb.

“ _Fuck_ but you’re beautiful,” Brock muttered brokenly against Beth’s neck as she relaxed into him, gave herself trustingly over to him. Her nipples were plump as cherries, stiff and raspberry-pink against his tanned fingers, obviously sensitive since she was writhing and gasping as he played with them.

“Is… is that a gun in your pocket, officer, or are you just pleased to see me?” Beth gasped out, writhing in his lap, wiggling her hips against the rock-hard erection she could feel through his pants.

“Oh, I am very fuckin’ pleased to see you, sweetheart, don’t you ever doubt it.” He wanted to taste her too badly, lifted her up and turned her around despite her cry of protest, seating her on the edge of his desk and scooting his chair forward to seat himself between her thighs.

“Ohhhh…” Beth gasped as his heated mouth closed over one aching nipple, drawing it deep into his mouth for a long hard suck, even as his fingers plucked and pinched at the other. “Brock,” she panted his name, hooking her cuffed hands behind his head and holding him to her. “Hnnn. Ahhhh!”

“Lay back,” he ordered suddenly, reaching behind his head to grab her hands, pulling them up. Standing up, he tipped her steadily backwards until she was flat on her back on the desk, hands above her head.

Beth looked utterly stunning, wanton, breasts revealed by the open top of her dress, her blue eyes heavy-lidded, golden hair spilling around her. She looked like Brock’s every wet dream come true. He just stared at her for a long moment, gazing his fill, until she lifted a small foot and poked him in the chest.

“Hadn’t you better finish your search, Officer?”

He smiled, catching her foot in his hand. She was wearing pretty tan-coloured sandals, strappy with a little kitten heel. Unfastening the strap, he eased the shoe off, let it fall to the floor.

“Could be something lethal hidden in these. Definitely have to confiscate them.”

“Indeed?” Beth let him take the other foot, remove that shoe as well. His fingers glided up the inside of her calves, making her shiver. “Surely you don’t think _I_ could be dangerous.”

“I think you’re lethal - to my peace of mind.” He stroked the back of her knees lightly before smoothing his hands up the outside of her thighs. Her skirt pushed up ahead of his questing hands, and Beth let out a moan as he leaned forward and warm breath played over her knees.

“Definitely some very dangerous weapons here,” Brock rasped out, stroking Beth’s thighs. Her skin was silky-soft under his roughened fingertips, and she smelled fresh and clean, like summer rain, a balm to his senses. “Very. Dangerous. Yeah.”

His eyes were glazed with need as he stared down at her, strong hands shaking a little as he reached to undo the rest of the buttons on her dress, spreading it open and gazing down at her worshipfully. She wore only a pair of pale blue cotton panties under the dress, a damp spot already showing at her core.

“Oh sweet merciful God.” That spot, that evidence of her arousal, broke Brock utterly, and he bent to bury his face between Beth’s legs. She moaned, hooking her thighs over his shoulders and pressing her heels against his back to pull him closer.

Her panties ripped like paper under his strong fingers, leaving nothing to shield her from his attentions, from his eagerly questing tongue. Not that she would have wanted that; she wanted nothing between them, and he was still wearing too many _clothes_.

“Brock,” she whimpered as his tongue dragged over her clit, teasingly slow. He reached up to squeeze and roll her nipples in his fingertips, the cotton of his shirtsleeves dragging over her sides, rough to her inflamed senses. “Shirt. Please. _Shirt_.”

Face buried in soft golden curls, eagerly lapping at Beth’s slick flesh, it took him a moment to realise what she wanted. Taking his hands from her breasts but keeping his mouth busy, he fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, almost dragging it off, before pulling back briefly to yank the T-shirt he was wearing underneath off over his head.

Beth groaned as he returned to her, heated skin against her legs now. She wanted to see him, see the thick, defined muscles she knew had to be underneath his clothes, but she couldn’t even get her eyes to open right now as his agile tongue lapped and slurped. A thick finger probed for entrance, gathering slick before jabbing inside her, thrusting in a quick motion, rubbing over the ring of sensitive nerves at the mouth of her vagina.

“Holy fuuuuck,” Beth arched up off the desk with a gasp, and Brock chuckled against her and added another finger, crooking them up and flicking them in a beckoning motion.

She had to bring her cuffed hands to her mouth and stuff one fist into her mouth to muffle the wracking screams. While the police station was a sturdy, modern brick building, she somehow didn’t think the office was likely to be soundproof, and she really didn’t need the whole department to hear them.

Brock hummed with pleasure, tongue swirling around her labia as Beth’s inner passage clenched on his fingers. She was wet, and getting wetter with his ministrations, but so tight. Just _thinking_ about having her clenching around his cock like that made his already-hard cock twitch with need.

The delicate squeezing ripple of her internal muscles slowed and he gentled his strokes, easing her down from the orgasm. Lifting her down from the desk into his lap, her cuffed hands around his neck, her dress hanging uselessly behind her, he held her close. She laid her cheek on his shoulder and sighed against his throat, her whole body gone soft and supple with release.

“Mmm,” Beth hummed against Brock’s neck, “thank you.”

He laughed quietly. “No need to thank me for that, angel. My pleasure, I assure you, to see you come like that. You are _glorious_.”

She lifted her head, cast an appreciative look down his bared, thickly muscled torso. “Likewise. Get your pants off.”

“Something you want?” he chuckled quietly.

“Yes, and your gunbelt is digging into me.”

“I’m not sure that’s just my gunbelt, angel…”

She laughed at his wicked grin. “Sounds like a variation on the old joke. Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?”

“My gun ain’t in my pocket, and I am _very_ pleased to see you.” He stood, necessarily pulling her up as well, since she couldn’t unlink her arms from around his neck. Not that Beth was objecting to that in the slightest as her breasts were pressed against his hard chest. His hands slid in between them, worked the buckle on the belt before he unzipped his pants, toeing his boots off at the same time.

“Just take a step back, angel,” Brock murmured as his pants and shorts fell to the floor. “My wallet’s in my desk drawer.”

She frowned, puzzled.

“Condom. Gotta protect you.”

“Oh,” the soft, adoring look in her eyes absolutely destroyed him. He had to kiss her, loving the way she kissed him back eagerly, uncaring that his mouth tasted of her. He lifted her to sit on the edge of the desk, fumbling for the drawer and his wallet and the condom he knew was in it. She hooked her legs around his waist, looking down at his cock, jutting eagerly towards her - drawing in a soft breath as she saw the words written on his stomach.

_Oh._

“Maybe you should lie back again. Or turn over,” Brock suggested, realising that she almost certainly wasn’t ready to bond with him yet, and if he took her like this there was no way they’d be able to avoid the marks meeting.

Instead of lifting her hands to bring them over his head, she gripped two handfuls of his thick black hair instead, tugged hard to bring his mouth to hers.

“Not unless you really want me to,” Beth whispered after she let Brock up from the kiss. He looked a little dazed, one hand resting on the desk by her hip above the open drawer, the other at the small of her back. “Because I _want_ the bond. I want to be yours.”

It was his turn to make an inarticulate, needy sound, his dark eyes fiercely loving as he gazed at her. Quickly he glanced down, scrabbled in his wallet for the condom.

Beth moaned needily, hooked her ankles around his waist as he rolled the condom on hastily. Brock was a little disgusted to note that his hands were shaking a little, like a teenager with his first crush, he thought ruefully, trying to pull himself together. Feeling Beth clinging to him, trying to pull him into her, wanting their bond, would have broken any man, though, he thought. He finally got the condom on securely and put his hands to her hips.

“You sure?”

For answer she only tightened her hands in his hair, pulling him greedily in for another kiss, even as her slender legs tugged him closer, hips rolling against him as his cock slid easily in her soaked channel.

Beth sighed with pleasure, hitching her legs further around Brock’s lean hips, ankles crossing as she pulled him slowly into her. He stilled, letting her set the pace at which she took him, watching her flushed face as she bit down on her lower lip, eyes closing with pleasure as his cock sank deep inside her.

“You are so beautiful,” he said wonderingly, hardly able to breathe with how good she felt wrapped around him. “God, Beth, what the hell did I ever do to deserve you?”

She laughed breathlessly and shook her head, unable to talk just then. Rocking her hips forward to take him the last little bit inside her, she cried out as their soulmarks met and a bolt of pleasure rippled through her - not her pleasure, she realised, but _Brock’s_.

“Yes, oh _Jesus_! Beth!” Brock shouted, every muscle tensing suddenly, his hands clenching on Beth’s ass, holding her tightly against him as he surged, hips snapping up hard in short, brutal thrusts. The handcuff chain scraped at the back of his neck, her nails clawed at his shoulders, but he felt no pain, only the pleasure that overwhelmed them both.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Beth panted against Brock’s neck as they came slowly down. His hands were like an iron clamp on her hips, holding her utterly still, tightly against him. He kissed her brow tenderly, hands slowly unclenching, one of them moving up to stroke her back in a slow, gentle sweep. She sighed and relaxed against him, letting her weight fall against his chest.

Brock chuckled softly as he felt Beth slump against him, took her weight easily and stepped back, glancing behind him for his chair and sitting down in it. “You okay, angel?” he petted her hair gently.

“Mmhm,” she mumbled into his neck, “so _very_ much more than just okay.”

He hummed in contended agreement, kept stroking her hair, breathing in the clean, summery scent of it. Until she lifted her head and gave him a cat-got-the-cream smile.

“Do you think your officers left us any of those brownies?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “I doubt it, angel. Why, are you hungry?”

Beth widened her big blue eyes at him innocently. “I seem to have worked up a bit of an appetite, somehow.” Deliberately, she wiggled a little in his lap, giggled as he groaned.

“I think we’d better go find you some food then, honey.” Brock grinned, lifting a protesting Beth’s hands over his head and then her off his lap. “You’re gonna need the energy,” he advised, with a wicked pat to her bottom.

She looked back over her shoulder at him and winked. “So are you,” she sassed, pulling the front of her dress back together and starting to button it. “Are you gonna let me out of these cuffs?”

“I’m tempted not to,” he confessed, stepping back into his pants and pulling them up, “but I really don’t need to give my subordinates any more gossip fuel than we already have.”

Beth grinned up at him, holding her wrists out towards him as he fished the handcuff key from a pocket. “I really, really hope these walls are soundproof.”

The cuffs clicked open and he smirked down at her. “Well if they ain’t, at least the gossip will be all over town in five minutes!”

Picking up her ruined panties Beth arched an eyebrow at him before tossing them in the bin and turning to sashay out of his office while he was still pulling his shirt back on. “Looks like you’re getting used to small-town life in Kansas, Brock Rumlow!” she called over her shoulder.

“Darlin’, I’ll get used to anything at all as long as it’s with you,” he caught up with her in the middle of the bullpen, caught her round the waist and spun her into his arms for another thorough kiss.

“All right, all right, think you’ve marked your territory well enough, chief!” someone called out amidst laughter, and Brock let Beth up with a smile.

“And don’t you lot ever forget it,” he directed a mock glare around at his officers.

“Yes, sir!” came the laughing chorus in response.

“Should we start calling her Mrs Rumlow now, sir?” one wag called.

“Anderson, you cannot propose to my soulmate for me, you imbecile,” Brock shook his head, but Beth could see the teasing smile at the corner of his lips. “Besides, I have to brave her brothers first!”

“We’ll just arrest them all and cuff them to the church benches sir!”

Beth couldn’t hold her laughter in any longer. She leaned against Brock, cackling helplessly as the good-natured banter continued, Brock giving as good as he got, completely unembarrassed. At last he called a halt with an upraised hand and a broad grin.

“Fun though this has been, ladies and gentlemen, I need you to get back to work because your sheriff is about to play hooky. I’m taking Miss Jackson to lunch.”

As he ushered Beth outside, he murmured “Though we might need to stop by your place for you to get some more underwear or I’ll get completely distracted.”

She smiled lovingly up at him. “Darling. If we stop by my place we won’t end up going out for lunch.”

Brock tilted his head consideringly. “Well, I do make a mean grilled cheese.”

“I _love_ grilled cheese.” She hugged happily close to him as he walked her to his car.

“I love _you_ ,” he responded, his voice low and deep, and they stopped to kiss yet again in the middle of the parking lot.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next up to be written is Bucky/Bobbi, as voted for by SwifteForeverAndAlways, TZF59, BuckyBarnes4Evah, MCUFan34, MockingJayBird, kingofnightmaresanddragons, BirdieBird, rockstar382, ecliptic.nebulae, FNLfan, miss_moonstone, Lia, Kat, AssassinsCreeder, Ducky Barnes, 8ucky8arnes, redheadeddevastastion, Prudii_Aden, Greennonmonster, I’mAWizard, TribunalWill, 300Fans, Jocasta Silver, Jimpix, RunawayArchivist, CM200, superhero_heart, Kristopher, PnkGrnYllwBlu, TreeOfLifeFruit, yapper444, BurningHouse, PsychoPurple, AlekWalker, BoatsBoat, BoyMan, WinterBird4Life, BlueLightening, Kittens, AvengersFan83, paksiegurlie, DestinedTime and BetOnit. Wow, looks like there are a lot of Winterbird fans out there! I’m amazed this ship doesn’t have more fics yet, but oh well, give it time!**
> 
>  
> 
> As always, PLEASE check the next chapter for the voting list and make sure you haven’t already voted for the ship you choose next!
> 
>  


	28. Bucky/Bobbi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Continued from[Chapter 94, Are You Seeing This?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2658407/chapters/7493171)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As voted for by SwifteForeverAndAlways, TZF59, BuckyBarnes4Evah, MCUFan34, MockingJayBird, kingofnightmaresanddragons, BirdieBird, rockstar382, ecliptic.nebulae, FNLfan, miss_moonstone, Lia, Kat, AssassinsCreeder, Ducky Barnes, 8ucky8arnes, redheadeddevastastion, Prudii_Aden, Greennonmonster, I’mAWizard, TribunalWill, 300Fans, Jocasta Silver, Jimpix, RunawayArchivist, CM200, superhero_heart, Kristopher, PnkGrnYllwBlu, TreeOfLifeFruit, yapper444, BurningHouse, PsychoPurple, AlekWalker, BoatsBoat, BoyMan, WinterBird4Life, BlueLightening, Kittens, AvengersFan83, paksiegurlie, DestinedTime and BetOnit.**

 

Bucky didn’t actively hold onto her, but it was more than clear that he didn’t want to be left alone, so Bobbi just stayed close by. Even when they got back to base and Coulson totally failed to maintain his dignity and acted like a 13-year-old fanboy.

Which at least had the benefit of making Bucky smile. Although Bobbi got a distinct ‘You are not worthy’ vibe when she told Coulson that she and Bucky were soulmates.

Nobody else seemed to share that opinion. May had obviously failed to suppress the urge to spread the word and Daisy and Jemma were standing outside Coulson’s office with huge, awed eyes.

“My God, it really is him,” Jemma gaped as Bucky walked out behind Bobbi.

“ _Bucky Barnes_ ,” Daisy said in hero-worshipping tones.

“That’s me, doll,” Bucky gave her a tired grin. “But it’s been a long day. Got somewhere I can bunk down for a while?”

Jemma and Daisy both turned to stare at Bobbi, who determinedly told herself that she was _not_ going to blush.

“I’m quite sure you two have things you should be doing,” she said in forbidding tones, and the other two were still young enough to instinctively retreat.

“You’re very good at that,” Bucky murmured in her ear.

“Mm.” She saw another figure standing further down the hall, arms folded. “This one might be a tad harder to explain.”

“Why’s that?” Bucky followed the direction of her gaze, saw a lean guy with a shaved head and watchful dark eyes. Something about his stance put Bucky on guard instantly. “ _Who_ is that?”

“My ex-husband.”

“You were married?”

“I was born with a soulmark that faded out for years at a time!” Bobbi defended herself. “It had been faded for five years when I met Hunter!”

Bucky’s expression softened. “I was in cryo.”

“I didn’t even know that was _possible_!” She looked back at Hunter. “It came back black. Our marriage - fell apart. Even when it faded out again. He couldn’t deal with knowing that I’d walk away if you ever somehow turned up.”

Bucky winced, glanced back at Hunter, still watching them. “Give me a minute, doll?” he touched Bobbi’s hand lightly, walked away.

They were far enough away that she couldn’t hear what the two men said to each other, and she’d never been able to master lip-reading. She could only stand and watch, seeing the two most important men in her world talk to each other. Finally, though, Hunter unfolded his arms and held out his hand; Bucky accepted it to shake and Hunter gave her a look and a grin, shaking his head before turning to walk away.

“What on earth did you say to him?” Bobbi asked, amazed.

“I asked his advice, obviously. Said I hadn’t known you a minute before I realised you were a hellcat and I was seriously gonna have my hands full.”

She stared at him incredulously before starting to laugh, threading her arm through his and leading him along the hallway. Bucky grinned, glad that she hadn’t asked - yet - what Hunter’s response had been. He suspected Bobbi wouldn’t like to hear that her ex-husband had threatened to cut Bucky’s nuts off with a pair of blunt pruning shears if he ever did anything to hurt Bobbi.

“So… this is me,” she said a bit awkwardly as they reached a door.

Bucky said nothing, just watched her with those startlingly blue eyes. Her own were just as blue, she knew, but with her blonde hair and lighter skin they weren’t as striking a contrast as his.

“And… you, if you want,” Bobbi added, feeling awkward under that intense stare. Opening the door, she stepped into the room, gestured for Bucky to follow her. “We don’t really have guest rooms, as such. This base was never intended to accommodate as many people as it now holds. I’m lucky to have a room to myself.”

He looked around the space as the door swung closed behind them. It was simply furnished, a queen bed, a chest of drawers. A framed picture on the wall of a tropical island in the middle of a blue ocean. He looked at it for a long moment before looking back at Bobbi.

“I can find somewhere else to bunk down. I’m used to sleeping rough, these days.”

“It’s not necessary,” she said with a small smile, sitting down on the end of the bed to tug her boots off. “Unless you’re afraid that I’m gonna jump on you and ravish you?”

He chuckled at that, sat down beside her and nudged her lightly with his shoulder. “Oh, doll, that wouldn’t _worry_ me. Quite the opposite.”

This close to him, she found her breath coming quickly again. Remembered how it had felt when they kissed, standing in the wrecked Hydra safehouse surrounded by death. Even there, she hadn’t been able to resist that tempting look in his eyes.

And why _should_ she? He was her soulmate, they were both adults. Leaning back against him, she hooked a long arm around his waist. “So we won’t need to build a pillow barrier down the middle of the bed to protect your virtue?”

Bucky laughed, glanced at the single flat pillow she preferred to sleep with. “I don’t think you’ve got that many pillows, doll. The way you’re lookin’ at me, we’d need a mountain of ‘em.”

She laughed, twisted around in one sinuous move and seated herself astride his thighs. They were just about the same height standing up, but like this, his face was on a level with her cleavage.

“Are we skippin’ over all the awkward dancin’ around gettin’ to know each other bit, then?” Bucky asked, eyes glued to her breasts.

“That’s the plan,” Bobbi agreed, reaching down to pull her T-shirt up and off over her head. She was wearing a plain black cotton sports bra, reached behind her back to unclip it - found Bucky’s hand already there.

“Let me?” he requested quietly.

“Go for it,” Bobbi dropped her hand, and Bucky fiddled with the clasp a moment before popping it open. She tossed the bra aside and grinned at his admiring expression as he gazed at her breasts. Though his eyes traced up to the ugly bullet wound in her chest and his expression clouded.

“Hey, you’ve got a lot more scars than that, I reckon,” lightly she put two fingers under his chin and tipped his face up, making him look at her. “I’m a field agent, Bucky. Going in harm’s way to protect others is my job.”

His lips tightened, but he nodded. “Goes against the grain to let a beautiful dame fight her own battles,” he said with a slightly roguish grin.

“You really are from the forties,” she smiled back at him.

“Yeah. But I wasn’t all that old-fashioned even back then,” he looked at her breasts, almost in his face, and licked his lips.

“Good. I’m not an old-fashioned kind of girl.”

“I can see that,” Bucky agreed, still gazing at those perfect breasts. But Bobbi was apparently tired of talking, because the next thing she did was grab hold of a double handful of his hair and crush her lips to his.

Their first kiss had been passionate, but a little tentative, as they both learned what the other liked. This time, knowing that they both liked the same thing - fierce hunger and no quarter given - the kiss was much, much hotter, deeper; tongues duelling and teeth clashing, Bobbi yanking on Bucky’s hair, his hands closing firmly on her breasts, though he was always conscious of the pressure he exerted with the cybernetic left hand, not wanting to damage her.

Within moments she’d pushed him down to his back, straddling his lean hips while he pinched and tugged at her nipples, teasing them to hard, ripe raspberries he ached to taste. Bobbi was busy unzipping his jacket and pushing it open, though, and then surprised the hell out of him by grabbing the collar of his T-shirt and literally rending it open from neck to hem.

"Hellcat," he grinned up at her, before clamping his arm around her waist and rolling them. "Don't think you'll get to be on top all the time."

She responded to that quite satisfactorily, by grabbing his head again and yanking his mouth down to her breasts. Bucky groaned with pleasure as he buried his face in her cleavage before turning his head to lick and nip at one raspberry nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth and pulsing his tongue hard against it even as his hands worked at the waist of her tight combat pants. Bobbi bucked her hips up, arching her back, to help him get them off, and he couldn't resist slipping the fingers of his metal hand into the edge of her panties and flexing the metal joints to literally shred the fine fabric from her body.

"My pants!" Bobbi protested. Bucky lifted his head, grinned wickedly at her.

"My T-shirt!" he mimicked in the same tone, shrugging the remnants of the shirt she'd ripped open off his shoulders.

"Fair enough," Bobbi acknowledged with a grin before pulling his head back down to her breasts again, her long, supple legs winding around his waist. A moment later she was grinding against his cock through his pants, making Bucky pant and groan around his mouthful of flesh, because he could feel her slick already soaking through the heavy fabric.

Pulling downwards, he ignored her fingers tugging on his hair, kissed downwards across her flat, hard stomach. Realising his intended destination, Bobbi stopped pulling and started pushing, encouraging him on.

"Don't crack my skull with those magnificent thigh muscles, now," Bucky grinned up at her again before diving in.

"Serve you right if I did - _ohhhh_ ," he _really_ knew what he was doing with his tongue, one long hard lick from her hole up to her clit, gathering moisture, before he started lapping quickly over her clit, pressing the hood back lightly with the tip of a finger to expose the sensitive tip. Bobbi's thighs went lax as Bucky leaned into her deeper, and then she gasped in shock as cool metal suddenly slid inside her.

It felt wrong, alien, but at the same time really good, as Bucky added a second finger and crooked them both. They warmed quickly to match her body heat and Bobbi found herself writhing against the incredible hardness of them, which combined with Bucky's rapidly working tongue, were going to push her up to orgasm pretty damn quick. Her thighs trembled, her hands fisted in the sheet under her, back arching as sparks burst behind her closed eyelids.

She was gloriously uninhibited in her passion, cries of pleasure echoing off the walls as Bucky kept working, extending her climax for as long as possible. He was still lapping, eyes closed with bliss, when those anaconda thighs tightened around his head and she twisted like an eel underneath him.

Flushed with passion, Bobbi looked down at Bucky as she rolled over on top of him, reaching still slightly shaky hands to unfasten his pants, reach inside to wrap long, strong fingers around his cock. "Well hello there," she purred, on discovering that he was already very much erect, pre-cum leaking copiously from the tip.

"You got a johnny, doll?" Bucky murmured.

"A what?" she blinked down at him, then realised what he must mean from the context of the question. "Oh, a condom. Yeah, sure, somewhere… hang on." Scrambling off him, she headed over to her dresser, started digging through a drawer. Bucky gazed in awe at the back view for a moment before realising that he should probably just finish getting undressed. He couldn't quite take his eyes off the curve of that magnificent ass, though, was all fingers and thumbs stripping the rest of his clothes off and was still wearing a sock when she turned back around, brandishing a foil packet.

"Got one!"

"Yeargh," Bucky agreed, staring in wonderment at the full frontal view, which was, somehow, even better than that spectacular back view. Clutching his sock, he kept on staring until Bobbi chuckled and came back over to the bed, standing astride his legs as he sat on the edge.

"You're good for my ego, Barnes."

"You ain't good for my blood pressure, Morse," Bucky sassed right back at her, finally managing to look away from her breasts and up to her eyes. Temporarily, at least. Until Bobbi reached down between them to grasp his cock in her hand, sliding deft fingers around the head in a quick, corkscrewing motion that had him sucking in a deep breath and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Christ, doll," he muttered as he heard the rip of the foil packet, felt the firm squeeze of the condom rolling down over his cock, her clever fingers rubbing and squeezing in all the right places. "Keep that up and this ain't gonna last long."

She laughed quietly, her nails tickling over his full, swollen balls lightly. "Did I saw I wanted long and slow? I'm quite sure I didn't. Because quick and dirty is much more my speed."

Bucky made an eager strangled noise as she shifted forward, hooking a long leg up around his waist, bracing her other knee on the bed as she pressed herself down on the tip of his cock. He put his metal hand under her ass to support her; couldn't resist putting the other one down too although he didn't need to, because the feedback from his metal hand just wasn't the same, didn't convey the incredible way she felt, like silk over steel, powerful muscles rippling under satiny smooth skin.

And that was just the way she felt against his _hand_. The tight wet grip of her internal muscles around his cock, even muted by the thin latex sheath, was mind-blowingly good, making Bucky's eyes roll back in his head even before she flexed her thighs and started moving up and down, her internal muscles somehow clenching even tighter at the same time.

"Jesus Mary and Joseph," Bucky gasped through gritted teeth. "How the hell are you _doin'_ that, doll?"

"It's just another set of muscles," Bobbi said, a little out of breath herself from the way Bucky's thick cock felt slowly sliding inside her. "Can be… trained… like any… other."

"Sheesh," he let himself enjoy it for a few moments more before deciding to take back at least a little of the initiative, though it seemed his soulmate was full of surprises. Tightening the grip of his cyborg hand on her hip, holding her still, he smirked at her. “You just hold there for a moment.”

“Ungh,” she couldn’t even move, couldn’t writhe against him, and he’d stopped her right at the bottom of her movement, his cock buried as deep inside her as it could go. Looking down she almost thought to see her flat stomach bulging with how full she felt stuffed. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” the tip of his cock was pushing right on her G-spot, the constant pressure making her rise back quickly towards climax again. Desperately she flexed internal muscles as hard as she could, trying to drag Bucky along with her, but he just watched her with a maddening grin as she lost her mind for the second time.

“Fuck,” Bobbi groaned, leaning her head on Bucky’s shoulder, enjoying the coolness of the metal against her sweaty brow. “Oh, fuuuuck.”

She felt Bucky smile and kiss her hair. “You’ve got a real potty mouth on you, my girl.”

“I defy anyone to keep it clean when they’re getting fucked out of their mind by Bucky “Donkey Cock” Barnes,” Bobbi rasped, making him let out a shocked laugh.

“As long as it’s only my cock you think bears a similarity to a donkey, we’re all good.”

She chuckled harshly, still clinging to him, feeling her internal muscles quivering spasmodically.

“You okay?” He checked quietly after a moment, lifting his hand to stroke down her back gently.

“Yeah - yeah, I’m all right. Gimme a moment.” Turning her head, she nibbled on his earlobe, gasping as Bucky shifted slightly and his still-very-hard cock shifted inside her. “Hnnn.”

“Think you can take a little more of my donkey cock then, doll?” he said teasingly.

She was squirming in his lap, her long arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Take everything _you_ can give,” she panted defiantly.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky liked the way she challenged him, wasn’t afraid to stand up to him, take what she wanted. Well, he wasn’t afraid to take what _he_ wanted. Powerful muscles flexed as he flipped them over, bracing himself above her. Reaching down to grab her slim ankles in his hands and lift them high, putting them against his shoulders.

“Oh damn yes,” Bobbi flung her hands up above her head, grasped onto the metal rails of the headboard to brace herself. “Give it to me,” she demanded, “give me a good hard fucking, Barnes…”

“Nothing I’d like better,” confident that she’d leave her ankles where they were, he put his hands back down, set the prosthetic one under her bottom to lift her up to the perfect height for him to fuck thoroughly - and put the flesh one down in between them to thumb at her clit.

“Yes,” Bobbi said in a near-growl as Bucky started to thrust. He started slow and sped up, until he was slamming into her fast and hard and she had to use all her considerable strength to hold herself still, to brace against the deep, driving penetration. It felt _amazing_ , especially with his finger flicking rapidly over her clit. She felt herself tightening up again involuntarily, saw his eyes widen and his mouth drop open as he groaned gutturally.

“That’s it,” Bobbi pleaded, “yes, that’s it oh God don’t you _dare_ stop!”

“Come on, doll, yeah, yeah!” Bucky cried out as she shuddered and screamed, feeling the orgasm building at the base of his own spine. A few more slamming strokes and she broke, her calf and thigh muscles tensing, her entire upper body lifting off the bed for a few moments.

The clench of her vaginal muscles was so tight on his cock that Bucky just about saw stars; curses spilling from his lips, he came helplessly, spilling deep inside Bobbi’s clutching, gripping body.

Letting go of the bedframe and dropping her legs down, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to lie atop her, their bodies still locked together. Deliberately, Bobbi clenched around him again, making Bucky chuff out a shocked breath.

“Whooo baby, easy. Gimme a few minutes to recover before we start going for round two.”

Bobbi laughed breathlessly, letting her arms drop back as Bucky pulled back. “I think I’m gonna need a bit more than a few minutes.”

Bucky collapsed beside her, turning his head to smile at her. “Yeah? Take as much time as you need, doll. I’ll let you catch your breath.”

She couldn’t help but give him a cynical look. “Preeettty sure I’ll be up for round two before you will, big talker.”

He smiled, almost sadly. “We’ll see.”

It was sometime around dawn, when she lay boneless and utterly exhausted on the bed, feeling as though her bones were melting, that Bucky admitted to her that he’d received some sort of bastardised variant of the super-soldier serum.

“That’s totally cheating,” Bobbi grumbled into the pillow. Bucky placed a gentle kiss at the base of her spine, followed it with a slow series of kisses up to the nape of her neck, chuckling at the goosebumps that followed.

“Didn’t hear you complaining.”

She made a grumpy, sleepy sound. Bucky brushed her hair gently to the side and kissed her cheek. “Sleep, angel,” he said softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Guys, I’m sorry this has taken me so long to write. I really struggled with it for some unknown reason but YAY IT IS FINALLY DONE.**
> 
> **Next up will be Thor/Skye, as requested by: Mrs.Hunnam, jvestaj, cinti.linda, abonnett13, WhisperTragedy, Lula, Liles217, Prue02, bloominidiot, MrsDixon101, Holieshka, wzma, Val9, demon’s purity, Matt, Maddie Davis, sarahgirl12384, mariisawsume123, bookworm1898, IIxTigerLillyxII, inugirl2469, Kristina’sMyName, TigerBlak, LadyWinterlight, darklou91, Selene Aduial, LadyCheshire, jdho2, Missyb09, BeatriceDiggory, Sporks and Knives, t0rqu3b0t, Greennonmonster, sockserz, X-Random-X, NyssaBell13, LoganEliza, Rabidphetsy, Punkette123, jdho2, DevilChild135, shondaysiamccoy, Killing Threat, GoodyKate, Chalithra, Lferrier3, lillyrosenight and PuckForPresident.**
> 
>  
> 
> **I’ve been looking forward to this one, because can you believe it, I’ve never ever written Thor smut??? Time to fix THAT!**
> 
> **However, I am also off on holiday from Monday 28th March until 8th April, so I don’t know how much writing I’ll get done. Many notes will get taken, I suspect, though!**
> 
> **As always, the voting list is in the next chapter, but please come back to THIS chapter to vote!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This might not be the update you were expecting...

... but it is an update, I promise. Goodness me, is it really 3 months since I published a new chapter? EEK!

Anyway, here's why. The next chapter due was Skye/Thor, and it transpires that I really, absolutely, cannot get my head around Thor having sex without him being in a deeply committed relationship.

I started writing... and writing... and writing... 10k words later and neither of them had managed to get their clothes off.

Setting it aside in disgust, I figured I'd get back to it. And then I got distracted by other shiny things and my original novels and...stuff. Finally, I DID get back to it, and realised that I didn't want to waste those 10,000 words. There's some good stuff there, some powerful, emotional stuff which I think fans of both characters will enjoy. Just no sex. Yet :P

So I've decided to publish it as its own separate fic, and move on into the next one on the list for the Sexytimes - which should be NO problem at all to write, because it's Rumlow/Rollins/Skye ;) Hopefully you'll see that one in a few days at most.

Anyway, to those of you who have been PATIENTLY waiting such a terribly long time for Skye/Thor, and there were a lot of you (Mrs.Hunnam, jvestaj, cinti.linda, abonnett13, WhisperTragedy, Lula, Liles217, Prue02, bloominidiot, MrsDixon101, Holieshka, wzma, Val9, demon’s purity, Matt, Maddie Davis, sarahgirl12384, mariisawsume123, bookworm1898, IIxTigerLillyxII, inugirl2469, Kristina’sMyName, TigerBlak, LadyWinterlight, darklou91, Selene Aduial, LadyCheshire, jdho2, Missyb09, BeatriceDiggory, Sporks and Knives, t0rqu3b0t, Greennonmonster, sockserz, X-Random-X, NyssaBell13, LoganEliza, Rabidphetsy, Punkette123, jdho2, DevilChild135, shondaysiamccoy, Killing Threat, GoodyKate, Chalithra, Lferrier3, lillyrosenight and PuckForPresident) and of course to anyone else who would like to read it, here is the link to their very own fic:

[ _I Vow Myself_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7326832/chapters/16642573).

I've put up two chapters to begin with; the first is the original Short, the second deals with the immediate aftermath. Smut will finally happen in about Chapter 6 or 7. Promise!

Apologies again for keeping you guys all waiting so long. I'm blaming Thor for being a literal Disney Prince and VERY hard to write in a smutty manner!

(No, you don't get new votes on this chapter, guys. Wait for the next actual smut chapter!)


	30. Rumlow/Rollins/Daisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to [An Unexpected Inheritance](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4167942/chapters/10898864)
> 
> _I also wrote a prompt for this trio in my[A Soulmate For Valentine’s Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5974869/chapters/13730559) series which fits nicely into the AU. So I’m putting it here as the intro to the smut :)_
> 
> _AU from the end of Season 2._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested by: StarsGarters, TWD, Elliesmeow, Shingalala, sabelle67, Lvngd, Val9, AmieeSnow, Raveninflight, LadySaphire, Lia, Punkette123, Queen Isabella, krazykat00, inugirl2469, Holieshka, SarahJaneDoctor, Jennavive, Lula, LadyWinterlight, CHIBI_CRAZY, Evie9, Sporks and Knives, Princess PrettyPants, silica, amylou, paksiegurlie, nyxdtd, Robina852, SoupShue, Artemis_Day, Plantmistress, Ari loves all 2k14, X-Random-X, thetealady, Astaraya, Siren Alecto, Bookworm1898, StarlightAngel12, bloominidiot, Jade01, PuckForPresident, stonecoldswanlove, beauty_is_in_the_eye_of_the_beholder, MintChipandBooks, Oricke, Thanatos_Golden, IDreamofAvalon, I Just Won A Free Toaster Oven, LadyCheshire, demon’s purity, tessafiction12, SMC9, PurplePeopleEater, thalia123grace, sound_is_off, Serenity2005, lillyrosenight, ladygrae, SirenAlecto, GoodyKate, blackmoon42  
> (phew!)

 [](http://s1383.photobucket.com/user/Catherine_Bilson/media/cracksmut%20pics/HydraHusbands_zpsjlqp8gsa.jpg.html)

Image courtesy of [iainkillsrobots](http://iainkillsrobots.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr! 

They were driving her _utterly fucking insane_. Despite the fact that they’d both agreed to give her space, not to push her into anything she wasn’t ready for, she seemed to be tripping over one or both of them every time she turned around.

If they’d been watching _her_ , she could maybe have said something about it. But it was much worse than that. They were scoping everyone _around_ her with hard, searching eyes, looking out for her. _Bodyguarding_ her. And since that was their damned _job description_ she really couldn’t quibble about it!

Daisy had been endlessly surprised when Coulson had accepted the pair into SHIELD with very little argument. The fact that they’d both been positively chatty in the Lie Detector, holding nothing back whatsoever about their former activities, Hydra operations and otherwise, had probably helped.

Mind you, it probably wouldn’t have done any good if Coulson _had_ tried to keep them away, Daisy reflected darkly. For two big men they both seemed to have near-supernatural stealth abilities. And while they’d both agreed that their soulmateship with her was something to be explored when and if she was ready, their duty to safeguard her was apparently non-negotiable.

“Oh, fucking hell, _no_ ,” she said crossly as she turned from the microwave, her bowl of popcorn in her hands, to find them both standing behind her, taking up far too much room in the kitchen with their height and muscles and overall _masculinity_. “Guys, seriously. It’s Valentine’s Day, literally everybody else is out on dates. There’s nobody to protect me _from_.”

 _And I really don’t want to be thinking about how hot the both of you are, and how I’m pretty sure all I’d have to do is crook my little finger…_ she squashed the thought firmly.

Brock raised an eyebrow at her. “Don’t _you_ think a lot of yourself,” he said mockingly. “We know, Daisy. We’ve given ourselves the evening off. Planned to spend it _together_.”

The mere thought of what the two of them might get up to together sent her brain into a complete tailspin. She stood, mouth open, trying frantically to process that.

“But when Brock asked what I’d like to do for Valentine’s Day, I said I’d like a quiet evening in with a bottle of wine,” Jack put in, holding up a bottle. A very nice red, Daisy couldn’t help but notice. “So if you don’t mind…”

“Oh.” Awkwardly, she stumbled to one side, banged her elbow on the kitchen bench. The popcorn bowl tilted dangerously.

Warm hands clasped over hers, steadying them. Brock smiled down at her. “Careful.”

“Um.” She couldn’t look away from his eyes, gleaming with amusement. Until her gaze slid down to his lips.

_Which had been haunting her dreams far too many nights, lately..._

“Of course,” Jack straightened up from the cupboard, a pair of wine glasses dangling from his fingers… _those long, strong fingers which featured heavily in her erotic fantasies…_ “You could join us. If you wanted.”

“Whu?”

Jack and Brock paused, looked at each other. Brock took the popcorn bowl from her nerveless hands, setting it down on the counter. Reaching for her hands, he squeezed them gently. “Daisy, we haven’t pushed you because you had no reason to trust us. It’s been a few months, though, and I think you’re more comfortable with us now - perhaps we’ve been slack, in letting you know that we’re waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me?” she queried, a bit numbly.

“For you to be ready,” Jack clarified. “We assumed that you’d let us know.”

“But maybe you were waiting for the invitation, huh?” Brock’s compelling gaze was still locked with hers.

“I… maybe both?” she said at last. “Maybe I needed the invitation _when_ I was ready? But I didn’t know I was ready until you made the invitation… does that make sense?”

Brock nodded slowly. “Yeah - yeah, I get that.” He broke eye contact finally, looked across at Jack. “Why don’t we start with sharing this bottle of wine and that popcorn? Grab another glass, Jack.” He scooped the popcorn bowl up in one big hand, the other wrapping around Daisy’s cold, trembling fingers. With a gentle tug, he started her walking along with them.

She’d planned to eat her popcorn and find something to watch on Netflix in the common room, fully expecting to have the place to herself, but of course Brock and Jack were heading for their suite. As a ‘married couple’ they’d been allotted a large shared area in an otherwise pretty much unused section of the base; Daisy looked around with interest as they entered. She hadn’t been in here before, had in fact studiously avoided the area.

What she’d expected, she wasn’t quite sure, but it wasn’t a motorcycle in pieces on a tarp on the dining table. Startled, she let go of Brock’s hand and walked over to look.

“This is old. A classic.”

“It’s a 1969 Triumph Bonneville T120R,” Jack said, setting the wine and glasses down on the kitchen counter. “One of the finest motorcycles ever made.”

“Yours?” Daisy looked up at him as he came to stand by her, running one huge hand gently over the sleek chassis pieces lying on the table.

“Yeah,” he glanced sideways at her, smiled. “I restore old motorbikes. Found this one in a rusty heap in the basement of one of those Hydra safehouses we helped clean out. Coulson said I could keep it.”

“So _that’s_ what you and Mack have been bonding over,” she said, enlightened.

“Yeah, he actually machined a couple of parts for me new when I couldn’t find any. Can’t tell them from the originals. She’s nearly ready to go and I promised Mack the second test drive.”

“Maybe I could get a ride, sometime?” Daisy asked tentatively.

“Any time you like,” Jack told her with a broad grin. “But she won’t be ready for at least a couple more weeks, even with Mack’s help.”

“That’s okay. No rush.” Turning away, she looked at Brock, who had busied himself pouring the wine. “So what’s your hobby? Knitting?”

“You’re so funny,” he said dryly, coming over and handing her a glass. “No. Mine is - something I got into accidentally.”

“Don’t knock it,” Jack told him. “You can actually make a living at it, which is more than my hobby brings.”

Daisy looked back at Brock as she accepted the glass. “Now I’m curious.”

He grinned a little sheepishly. “Look around, sweetheart.”

She did, and it didn’t take her long to spot the wall with a large collage of photographs on it, all in simple frames which in no way detracted the eye from the images themselves. “Holy shit,” she breathed reverently, walking over to stare. “These are _incredible_.”

They were all wildlife photographs, all taken in extreme close up. Many of the animals she recognised, like the red fox staring straight into the camera, the pile of raccoon kits asleep in an adorable fuzzy bundle. Others, including many of the birds, were utterly unfamiliar.

“It’s this one that started it all,” Brock pointed to one particular bird image near the centre. “I used to be a sniper - you know that, of course. It involves lots of surveillance, boring days lying still in hides waiting for orders. One day, this little guy came really close and checked me out. I snapped the photo on a whim. Turned out to be a Thai white-eyed river martin. Nobody had seen one in twenty years.”

“No way,” Daisy said, seriously impressed.

“I sold the rights to the picture to National Geographic for a _lot_ of money. Not under my real name, of course, but… they kept contacting me, asking for more photos. I started taking them pretty regularly.” Brock shrugged. “It’s… nice. You probably wouldn’t think it of me, but I really like being out there in the wild, just me and the animals. Once you’ve been there a while, and they decide you’re not a threat, they’ll often come real close to check you out.”

Daisy listened with fascination, sipping her wine, as he told her about the situations he’d taken a few of the photographs in. Finally he stopped, turned to her with a smile.

“I’m boring you.”

“Not at all,” she denied. “These are absolutely stunning. I’m so impressed.”

Brock’s smile was rather bashful, as he put a gentle hand on the small of her back and steered her towards the couch, where Jack had already settled in at one end, long legs stretched before him to prop his feet on the coffee table. He was flicking through Netflix, glanced up as Daisy sat down beside him.

“Hey. Any preferences?”

“Not really,” she replied, smiling thanks at Brock as he put the popcorn bowl into her lap before sitting down.

“Brock and I were planning to watch _House of Cards_. The new season dropped yesterday…”

“Perfect!” she grabbed a handful of popcorn. “Exactly what I intended to do!”

They both smiled at her, and dipped into her popcorn bowl. Not that she could complain, since she was drinking their wine, which definitely wasn’t a $10 bottle. At least ten times that price, unless she missed her guess. She took another sip, enjoying the warm, mellow taste on her tongue.

By the end of the first episode, all the popcorn was gone and the wine bottle was empty. Daisy was lying back against Jack, one of his long legs now stretched along the back of the couch so she was cradled in his lap, his fingers gently carding through her hair. Brock, at the other end of the couch, was giving her a foot massage so good that she’d let out more than a couple of inappropriate moans, making him smirk and raise his eyebrows at her.

“Like getting massaged, do you?” Jack started massaging her scalp, and she gave up any pretence of not thoroughly enjoying herself.

“Don’t stop, please,” she begged shamelessly.

“Ain’t stopping till you say so, angel,” it was Brock who murmured that, strong thumbs digging into her insteps making her groan with pleasure.

Jack chuckled softly, his fingers drawing slow circles on her temples. “You make pretty disgraceful noises, sweetheart.”

She smiled, her eyes closed. “Bet you could get me to make much more disgraceful ones if you tried.”

Both men’s hands stilled.

“Perhaps we could, angel,” Brock said at last. “If that’s what you wanted.” She felt him move, setting her feet down and getting up. She didn’t open her eyes, though she felt him kneel down close by Jack’s feet just before his fingers traced lightly along her jaw. His thumb brushed her lower lip, and she deliberately parted her lips a little, heard Brock’s harshly indrawn breath before he kissed her.

His mouth was warm, wine-flavoured, his stubble a deliciously sensual rasp on her tender skin. Tentatively, Daisy reached up and hooked a hand behind his neck to hold on. Heard Jack’s groan above them as he watched them kiss for the first time, before one of his hands slid out of her hair and down over her shoulder to gently cup and mould her breast through her sweater.

Daisy moaned into Brock’s mouth as Jack’s fingers found her nipple, pinched lightly. Another hand landed on the other breast and she realised this was one of Brock’s, a little smaller but no less tender as he caressed her.

“Off,” she pulled at Brock’s hair to make him lift his mouth off hers, reached out to pluck at the hem of his shirt. “Get this off. And you,” she looked up at Jack. “I want to see all those muscles. You two have a very rude habit of covering up in the gym.”

That made them both laugh, before Brock moved back and stripped his T-shirt off, deliberately flexing his muscles at her wide-eyed stare.

“Well, that gym time is certainly time well spent,” she wanted to touch so badly, feel all those muscles rippling under his smooth, olive-tan skin. Jack seemed to know exactly how she felt, because his strong hand under her shoulder lifted and she found herself sitting up, Brock kneeling at her feet looking up at her.

“Go on,” Jack encouraged quietly in her ear. “He didn’t work on all those muscles for you _not_ to appreciate them.”

That made her laugh, before she reached out to touch Brock’s shoulder lightly, running her fingers up to his neck before taking them down to his chest, circling his left pectoral slowly. Brock’s lips parted, his eyes hooding and darkening as he gazed at her. He kept his hands down, though she saw his fists clench where they rested against his thighs, making his biceps tense even more, bunching up hard.

Jack shifted slightly beside Daisy, and she glanced over to find him stripping his shirt off too, revealing a body a little longer and leaner, though no less honed than Brock’s.

“Oh God, now I don’t know where to look. Or touch,” she said despairingly.

Jack chuckled. “You’ve got two hands, sweetheart. Use them both. Or just keep exploring Brock; I can wait my turn.”

“Jack is the most patient guy I’ve ever known,” Brock said. “Which can be a good thing. Or not, sometimes. He’s pretty good at the sexual torment thing.”

“Don’t let him fool you, he’s plenty gifted at that himself,” Jack said dryly.

Daisy swallowed. “Right,” she said breathily.

“Like that idea, hmm?” Jack’s fingers brushed the small of her back, where her top had ridden up a little bit, exposing skin. “How do you feel about the idea of both of us arousing you, taking you almost up to that point of pleasure, but never quite letting you tip over?” His warm fingers traced up her spine, his lips brushed her earlobe softly as he leaned closer, murmuring quietly, but quite loud enough for Brock to hear too.

Goosebumps sprang up in the wake of Jack’s fingers, and Daisy shivered with anticipation. “Yes,” she said mindlessly, barely aware of what she was agreeing to.

Brock smiled slowly, licked his lips. “You know what I’d like to see? I’d like to see you sitting on Jack’s cock, him holding your wrists so you can’t move. Just held still, trapped, while I play with your breasts. Your clit aching, throbbing to be touched, but there’s nothing. Not until you’re screaming and begging for it, and then maybe, just maybe, I’ll give you one flick of my finger. Just the one. If you can’t come from that, you’ll have to wait again.”

Daisy couldn’t help it; she started squirming as Brock spoke, his filthy suggestion evoking a desperate need in her to have what he offered, heat bubbling in her core.

“Something you want, angel?” he took his hands off his legs, reached forward to put them on her knees, slide inwards along her inner thighs. “Feeling a little warm in here? Maybe you’d like to start taking a few things off, too?”

Unable to speak, she nodded jerkily, felt Jack’s hand clench in the back of her thin sweater before he started pulling it up.

“Lift your arms,” he said quietly in her ear, and she obeyed, letting him pull the sweater off. Knowing she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath, she kept her eyes on Brock until the fabric covered her face, saw his eyes brighten as her breasts were revealed.

“Aahh!” while her face was covered, even though it was only for a few seconds, both nipples were grasped in strong fingers and tugged on gently.

Jack laughed quietly, pulling the sweater off Daisy’s arms. “Sneaky, Brock. Very sneaky.”

He kept hold of her nipples, drawing her slowly forward until she ended up sitting on the very edge of the couch, gasping with the sensations he was evoking, heat streaking through her nipples and arrowing straight to her groin, heat welling between her legs.

Jack caught her wrists as they pulled free of the sweater, brought them to the small of her back before shifting, moving one leg behind her so that she was sitting in the vee of his thighs, her back against his chest.

“Any time you want to stop,” Jack said softly, bending his head to nuzzle at her neck, the tender spot just below her ear, “you just say the word, okay? You got a safe word for us, sweetheart? Because we can get a bit rough, and you, you’re so small and delicate…”

“Not… not so delicate,” she panted, as Brock kept up his steady pressure on her nipples and Jack switched his grip on her wrists, taking both of them into one huge hand. The other slid around her waist and popped the button on her jeans. “Can take… whatever you two dish out.”

“Oh, we’ve seen you in the field, angel,” Brock said. “We know you aren’t as fragile as you look. But this is a very different kind of game. Safeword, or I let go.”

Jack’s hand had stopped too, his long fingers a scant inch short of their target. Daisy squirmed, panting.

“Okay,” she tried, through the lust fogging her brain, to come up with something. “Um. I dunno.”

Brock and Jack exchanged a look.

“Let’s just make it the traffic light system then, huh?” Brock said. “Red, yellow and green. Can you do that?”

“Yes. Green,” she pleaded, turning her head, trying to kiss Jack as his fingers inched downwards. “Yes. Oh God. Please.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you are _dripping_ ,” he said in tones of wonder, just before he kissed her.

Warm, wet heat surrounded one of her nipples as Brock replaced his tugging fingers with his mouth. Jack’s fingers scissored around her clit and she moaned into his mouth, hips rolling against his hand.

“Get these off her,” Jack stopped kissing her for long enough to say, and Brock released her breasts to grab the waist of her jeans and start peeling them down, taking her panties with them. In only a few moments she was entirely naked.

“Keep her busy,” Jack said gruffly, pushing her towards Brock, who wasted no time pulling her off the couch to kneel astride his lap.

Daisy was more than happy with that, especially since he immediately started kissing her, one arm around her waist supporting her while the other played with her breasts and he ground up against her, the thick swell of his arousal under his pants giving her a very pleasing ridge to grind against while she hung onto him, her arms around his strong neck.

“Fuck, that’s a pretty sight,” Jack muttered behind her, and she heard the sound of his belt being pulled from his pants, his zipper sliding down. “You two look seriously fucking hot together.”

Brock’s hand slipped down to cup Daisy’s ass, squeezing firmly, stroking his fingers down between the firm globes. He circled her puckered little hole lightly for a moment before pressing against it firmly with the tip of his index finger, making Daisy shudder and grind even harder against him.

Jack made a choked noise, and then Daisy heard him walking away. Wondering where he was going, she was far too occupied to care all that much. At least, until he returned and she felt his warm hand settle on her head, pulling gently on her hair to draw her mouth away from Brock’s.

Looking around, she found Jack on his knees beside them. He leaned in to kiss her too, his other arm around her waist lifting her off Brock and up onto the couch. Daisy whimpered in protest until Brock stood up and she got to see him unfastening his belt, his dark eyes hot as he looked down at her and slowly finished stripping off the rest of his clothes, showing that the rest of him was just as tautly muscled as his torso. And there was one _particular_ muscle that looked even harder than the rest, thick and long… she licked her lips, staring.

“ _Daisy_ ,” Brock said on a groan. “Don’t do that, all I want to do is fuck your mouth when you look at me like that.”

“I could go for that,” she agreed breathlessly.

“Go on,” Jack chuckled and nudged Brock when he groaned again. “I’ll take care of her.” And he knelt down at Daisy’s feet, lifted her legs over his shoulders and pulled slightly, so that she was half-lying back on the couch. He waited, though, until Brock was straddling Daisy’s stomach, one hand wrapped around his cock feeding the tip into her mouth, before leaning in and flicking his tongue over her clit.

Daisy’s huge eyes looked up at Brock as she eagerly took him in her mouth, a pleasured little moan as Jack’s tongue set to work vibrating through her lips and making Brock moan. He put his free hand to her head, running his fingers gently through her silky brown locks.

“Such a good girl,” he said softly. Daisy moaned again, hollowing her cheeks and sucking him in deeper, her lips butting up against the hand he’d wrapped around his cock. She made a discontented sound, wrinkled her brows at him.

“Don’t want to choke you,” Brock told her. “‘Specially not with Jack’s tongue working his magic on your pussy. You might well forget to breathe anyway.”

That was quite possible. Daisy had actually been trying to concentrate on Brock to avoid thinking about just that, but a stealthy finger had just joined in with Jack’s steadily working tongue, pushing deep into her pussy and crooking up, his fingertip _tapping_ on her G-spot in time with the wet flicking of his tongue against her clit.

Daisy gave a desperate moan around Brock’s cock, her fingers digging hard into his thigh muscles where she’d laid her hands.

“That’s it,” he crooned to her softly, rocking his hips back and forth to thrust in her mouth, though he never let her take him deep. “Such a lovely hot mouth, angel. You feeling good, is Jack being good to you? You’re sure being good to me.”

She moaned again, her eyelashes fluttering down as she felt the quiver beginning in the base of her spine, and Brock ordered; “Stop.”

Daisy’s eyes flew back open with a betrayed, shocked look as Jack stopped immediately, withdrawing his finger and lifting his mouth from her. She made an outraged sound of protest around Brock’s cock until he laughed quietly.

“I told you that we were gonna take you up to the edge and keep you there, angel. What part of that did you interpret as being allowed to come in the first five minutes?”

She still looked grumpy, until Brock drew back, pulling out of her mouth. “Give me a colour, Daisy,” he told her, running his thumb lightly over her lower lip.

“Green,” she said after a moment, with a sulky little sigh.

“Dear me, you can be a right little madam when you want to be, can’t you?” His hand clenched in her hair suddenly, pulling her head back hard, making her gasp. “Colour.”

“G-green!”

Jack bit her on the inside of the thigh and Daisy shuddered, a little moan escaping her lips.

“You like a little bit of pain?” Brock asked quietly.

“Yes - yes, aaahhh!” as Jack bit down harder before sucking firmly, creating a blooming bruise that she knew she would feel every time she moved for a few days. “ _Please_.” She sought for Brock’s cock again with her lips, trying to lick at his tip.

“Now you’re just being greedy.” He pulled back and moved off her, looking down at Jack, busily sucking another bruise into her tender inner thigh as Daisy squirmed and panted. “Your turn, Jack.”

“Hm?” Jack looked up.

“Go stand there,” Brock gestured to the end of the couch. “Your cock needs sucking too, and Daisy’s desperate to have one in her mouth.”

Jack chuckled quietly. “Thirsty little thing, aintcha?” He stood, though, moved around to the end of the couch. Daisy needed no encouragement to scramble to her knees and put her hands on the arm of the couch, eagerly taking Jack’s swollen cock into her mouth. He was uncut, which was a bit of a surprise, but considering how erect he was it didn’t faze her in the slightest. She moaned greedily as he didn’t stop her from taking him deep, instead just putting his hands on her head to steady himself, tipping his own head back with a rasping groan of pleasure. “Wow, you _are_ a greedy girl.”

“She certainly is,” and the flat of Brock’s hand came down on her ass in a sharp spank, making Daisy howl with pleasure around Jack’s cock.

“Oh, that’s good, real pretty,” Jack stared hungrily at the red handprint Brock had left. “Here,” he reached down to take one of Daisy’s hands, put it against his thigh. “Your mouth’s a bit full for a safeword, sweetheart, so gimme a pinch here if you need us to stop, okay?”

She nodded, bobbing her mouth up and down on his cock and making him groan again. Brock smacked her ass a second time, and this time wasn’t such a shock; Daisy arched into it, hollowing her back and thrusting her ass higher, hoping to tempt him to fuck her while she sucked on Jack’s cock.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Brock chuckled quietly. “Tempting though you are, I have something else in mind.”

“You just concentrate on your job here,” Jack ordered, his fingers clenching in her hair, and Daisy was glad to obey, sucking on him eagerly, breathing through her nose and taking him deeper a tiny bit at a time. She was too busy to even hear the click of the cap, Brock opening the bottle of lube Jack had brought in when he left them briefly, but she certainly felt the trickle of the cool, slick liquid sliding down in between her ass cheeks.It was only cool for a moment before it warmed to her skin, a pleasant tingling sensation following in its wake - and then Brock’s fingers, stroking slowly upwards from her pussy, catching the lube before one thick finger pressed into her ass.

“Open her up good,” Jack said hoarsely.

“Oh, I’m gonna, don’t you worry. Told you, I want to see her sitting on your cock and begging to come.”

Startled, Daisy made a questioning noise, her eyes rolling up to meet Jack’s. He laughed softly at her expression. “Did you think he meant my cock in your pussy, sweetheart? No, that would be far too satisfying for you. While I’m sure it’d be a real sweet ride, that’s not the hole I’m gonna fuck tonight. You always knew I’d want to be in your ass though, didn’t you? Since my words are right down here.” Reaching a long arm down, he traced his fingers gently over the small of her back.

The thought made her moan, the sound vibrating her throat around the head of Jack’s cock. He grunted with pleasure, fingers stroking up her spine until he got back to her head, both strong hands massaging into her hair again.

Brock had a second finger in her ass now, scissoring them apart, adding more lube as he worked the tight muscle open. It felt amazing; Daisy tried to roll her hips back against his invading hand.

Another sharp spank on her rump stopped her, combined with Jack’s firm tug on her hair, his cock sliding a little further into her throat. Daisy almost gagged, had to focus for a moment on her breathing. Jack eased his grip on her hair.

“Remember, pinch if you need to,” he said quietly.

She squeezed his thigh lightly instead, looking up at him and fluttering her lashes, which made him chuckle, his cock thickening even further in her mouth. “You really are a handful.”

Brock spanked her ass again at that, inserting a third finger at the same time. “That’s why you need both of us, isn’t it, angel? Keep you busy.”

Daisy certainly was busy, with Jack’s thick cock filling her mouth and Brock’s fingers working her ass open, stretching her in a way that was both a little painful and at the same time incredibly arousing. Her neglected clit throbbed painfully, but she couldn’t even put a hand down to take care of it herself, needing her free hand to brace herself. A tear of desperate need trickled down her cheek, and suddenly her mouth was empty as Jack pulled out, crouching down to thumb the tear away.

“Sshh,” he crooned. “Sshh, sweetheart.”

“Please,” she sobbed. “Please, I need it, I need _fucking_.”

“I know you do. Give me a colour.”

It took her a moment, biting on her lip as she stared into his green eyes, but eventually she managed it. “Green,” she whispered.

“What a good, beautiful girl you are,” Jack praised, glancing up to meet Brock’s eyes. He got a nod in response, stood up. “You’re going to get everything you deserve, I promise. We’ll make it so good for you.”

That was the only thing that enabled her to not call a halt; the sure and certain knowledge that they _wouldn’t_ leave her hanging, in the end. That the orgasm which had threatened to break over her more than once already would be all the more spectacular when they finally did let her come.

“I got an idea,” Brock said them, removing his fingers from Daisy’s ass with a slow, thick, slurping sound. “You get seated, Jack.”

“Okay,” Jack said, puzzled, looking after Brock as he disappeared in the direction of their small utility room, of all places. Shrugging, he scooped up one of the condom packets he’d dropped on the coffee table beside the lube bottle, looking down at Daisy as she slumped back against the couch, breathing fast, her lips puffy and swollen and her hair all over the place.

“Holy crap, you are so fucking beautiful,” Jack murmured it reverently as she smiled at him, watching with wide eyes as he rolled the condom on, poured some more lube into his hand and stroked it over his sheathed cock.

“You, too,” she licked her lips eagerly, though the thought of that cock going up her ass was a little intimidating, she was confident Jack wouldn’t hurt her. Or, not more than she _wanted_ to be hurt.

“Come sit on my lap then, sweetheart,” he told her, sitting down in the middle of the couch. “No, your back to me,” when she instinctively moved to sit facing him. “Brock loves these pretty breasts too much for you to hide them against my chest,” teasingly he reached around and tweaked her nipples as she sat down on his strong thighs.

“Mm, ahhh,” Daisy sighed and shifted against him, her pert bottom wiggling on his thighs, her head falling back against his shoulder as Jack played with her breasts. “Can’t you just fuck me already?” she begged hopefully, her hand dropping down between her legs to stroke at her soaking, swollen clit. He grabbed her hand instantly with a chuckle, pulled it away.

“You know that’s not going to happen, sweetheart,” he bent his head, nipped at her neck playfully. “Certainly not without Brock here to watch. He’d never forgive me. Now stop trying to make yourself come and put your hands up around my neck, link your fingers. That’s it. You’ll come when we say so, not when you do.”

“Is she being a greedy little madam again?” Brock said laughingly, coming back in.

“She is, and I’m not even in a position to spank her. Though her ass _is_ going to get punished,” Jack said as Daisy put her arms up around his neck, pouting sulkily even as she obeyed his order.

That made Brock grin, as he knelt back down in front of Daisy. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“You, you dork. You’re the one who wanted to see this,” Jack rolled his eyes affectionately at Brock.

“How very considerate. I thought of something else I’d like to see. I don’t have any nipple clamps, angel,” Brock told Daisy, “I’ll go buy you some tomorrow, but I do have these.” He held up two plastic clothespins.

“Oh,” she bit at her bottom lip, nodded eagerly when he gestured towards her breasts with them. They would _hurt_. More than clamps, even. Her nipples ached at the mere idea.

“Such beautiful breasts,” Brock murmured.

“He’s such a tits man,” Jack murmured with a quiet chuckle in Daisy’s ear, cupping her breasts in his hands, almost as though offering them up to Brock. He started rolling her nipples between his fingers and thumbs, his hips shifting at the same time, cock grinding up against her lower back.

“And you’re the ass man about to get exactly what you want, so shut up your bitching,” Brock sniped gently back, his eyes never leaving Daisy’s breasts, thrust out towards him by the arch of her body.

Jack laughed again, bit lightly on Daisy’s ear as she shifted against him, keening. Her legs were parted wide over his, and she was getting no pressure at all where she really wanted it. “Patience,” Jack whispered, tugging harder on her nipples. “You’ll get it all, Daisy. I promise.”

“Soon,” Brock promised, reaching out with a clothespin. “You’re gonna feel so good, Daisy, better than you ever have.”

The pain of the peg snapping shut on her sensitive nipple made her scream with pleasure, arching up into Jack’s hand as he squeezed her breast lightly. Panting, she subsided back against him, her fingers clawing at the short hair at the back of his neck.

“Colour,” Brock demanded quietly.

It took her a full minute to say “Green.” A minute in which neither of them moved at all.

“The other one?” Jack enquired once she’d said it.

“Y-yes.”

“Okay.”

Daisy managed not to scream as the second makeshift clamp bit down, but only by clenching her teeth. She keened long and low instead, and as she did, Jack took his hands off her breasts and lowered them to her hips, lifting her up. The tip of his cock teased at her ass, the thick, flared head nudging bluntly at the slick hole.

“How beautiful does she look?” Jack asked huskily as he began, very slowly, to lower Daisy down.

“Fucking amazing,” Brock sat back on his haunches, hand wrapping around his own cock to stroke it as he watched. “How does she feel, more importantly?”

“So tight,” Jack’s voice was tight, harsh. “Tell him, sweetheart. How does it feel, my cock sliding up into that beautiful ass of yours?”

“Full,” she panted out, choked, eyes rolling back in her head with pleasure. “More.”

Brock laughed at that. “ _So_ greedy.”

“I got some more for you, sweetheart,” Jack chuckled roughly, his hips shifting forward, pushing towards the edge of the couch, strong hands lifting and lowering her easily as he pushed still deeper. She had to let go of his neck as he pushed her upright, and immediately reached down, blind to anything but the desire to come.

“Oh, I _don’t_ think so,” Brock caught her hands before she even got close to her clit, making her let out a wail of frustrated rage. “Not yet, angel,” he took her wrists to the small of her back, holding them there firmly.

“Not too long,” Jack ground out, “because this feels really fucking amazing and I’m gonna blow my load in a minute.”

“Not until I’m in too, you’re not,” Brock said, “but I ain’t heard any screaming and begging yet.”

“Please,” Daisy said immediately, “oh god, please Brock, please, I want to come so much. Jack feels _so good_ in my ass.”

“You can still talk, angel. Tells me you’re not totally out of your mind with need yet,” Brock grinned up at her wickedly, moving closer before opening his mouth and licking his hot tongue slowly over the tip of one abused, swollen nipple.

It felt like an electric shock; Daisy yelled and writhed, making Jack groan in frustration and Brock chuckle before he moved across to the other breast and repeated the action. “Gonna take these clamps off,” he whispered, letting her hands go. “Better hang onto me, angel…”

She did, running her fingers into his thick black hair and clinging on as he released first one of the makeshift clamps, then the other. The blood rushing back into her nipples made her scream with pained ecstasy, then again as his hot mouth fastened over one, suckling it deep into his mouth even as his strong fingers reached to lightly tweak the other.

Daisy wasn’t even aware that she was begging incoherently, broken little half-pleas and sobs of both their names, not until Brock pulled off her nipple and leaned back to look up at her.

“Glorious,” he said reverently, before giving her exactly what he’d promised, a single tap of his finger against her clit.

“Christ almighty!” Jack swore as internal muscles clamped down hard on him, Daisy rocking and surging as she screamed long and loud. “She’s coming, Brock, fucking hell, oh _fuck_ that feels so good!”

Astonished, Brock said “Don’t you dare come with her!” A firm press at the base of Jack’s balls steadied him, enabled him to push back his own threatening climax.

“Come on,” Jack pleaded, “come join us, Brock. She’ll come again, I can feel it. God, so tight, sweetheart, you feel so good,” he stroked Daisy’s outer thighs gently. She shuddered and panted, writhing as he shifted back, twisting around to lay back on the couch, pulling her with him, his cock still buried to the hilt in her ass.

Brock was certainly not about to turn down that invitation. Grabbing for another condom he rolled it on hastily and joined them on the couch, kneeling between Jack’s spread thighs. Daisy’s legs were spread wider yet, her pussy pink and glossy, shining with slick. Arched back against Jack, she reached up to touch her own breasts, lightly massaging her nipples, making Brock groan.

“What a beautiful sight.”

“I can feel the bond,” Jack said hoarsely, “I can feel it forming, Brock… she’s so perfect... come, come join us!” he reached a big hand up and Brock squeezed it lightly before leaning in over them to kiss Daisy.

Jack and Brock had shared a bond for years, had learned to work around the difficulties that came with being an incomplete triad. The yearning to complete was strong, though, and there was no way that Brock could stay out of it, not when Daisy was only calling Jack’s name now as she writhed atop him.

Shifting so the mark on the outside of his knee pressed against the one on Jack’s inner thigh, Brock wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and pushed slowly into Daisy, his eyes on the black words written across her lower stomach, just above her pubic bone. As he pressed deeper he let go of his cock, looked up at her face again as he plunged in fully, the slick wetness of her passage wrapping around him in a hot wet clasp that would have driven him right out of his mind, even if the words on his stomach _hadn’t_ touched hers as he finally reached full depth, filling her completely.

“ _Daisy_ ,” he cried out wonderingly as his mark touched hers and the bond _snapped_ into place. _How the hell did Jack and I ever live without this, without her in between to complete us?_ was all he had time to wonder before the glory of a fully completed bond washed over all three of them, dragging them over into mutual climaxes so intense the walls rang with all their cries for several minutes.

Brock and Jack at least had the experience of their incomplete bond to prepare them; Daisy had absolutely nothing to compare her new double soulbond to. She clung to them, crying out with shock. She could _feel_ them, the lingering pleasure they were experiencing, their loving concern for her.

Lost in the sensations pouring through the new bond, briefly overwhelming her senses, Daisy didn't even notice when they slipped carefully from her body, when Brock picked her up to carry her to their bed, when Jack wrapped her in a soft blanket and they both curled around her, petting her hair, whispering soft words of loving praise to her.

She could _feel_ them, they were a part of her now; Jack a stable, steady presence. No matter what happened, Daisy knew now that Jack would stand strong, the bedrock of their trio. Brock’s mind felt somehow _brighter_ ; she sensed that he was the strategist of the pair, the one who would always think ten steps ahead.

Brock was curled around her like the big spoon, his body warm around hers, his lips lightly caressing her neck. Jack was facing her, her forehead pressed against his collarbone, his long arms wrapped around both of them, one long leg hooked over hers, touching Brock; she could feel the physical contact between them, as well as their joy in touching her. Their concern for her.

That was what brought her back to herself; blinking, she lifted her face to look up at Jack. “I’m okay,” she croaked.

“We were worried we’d done too much, sweetheart,” he stroked her hair away from her cheek gently. “Taken you too deep.”

“It was my idea,” Brock muttered against the back of her neck.

“It’s bond theory, right? The more into it the participants are, the deeper and more powerful the bond,” Daisy shifted, twisted over to look at him.

“It’s unproven, but… yeah,” one huge shoulder shifted in a small shrug, Brock looking a little sheepish. “Jack and me - our first time was in the aftermath of a firefight. It was - intense.”

“Even though we didn’t have you, it was a strong bond,” Jack added. “We’ve been together nine years, and as two-thirds of an incomplete triad, that’s doing pretty well, as you probably know.”

“It must have been hard,” she whispered, looking back at him. “Waiting for me, all those years.”

“You were too young,” Jack shook his head, pressing a gentle kiss on her brow. “You were only a teenager then. Two battle-hardened soldiers would have scared the living shit out of you.”

“True…” she had to concede that. “I mean, you’re pretty scary now.”

“Never to you,” Brock snorted. “Only to anyone who might be a threat to you, angel. Jack and I told you when we first met; we are yours, but _you_ are also _ours_ , ours to protect.”

“I don’t need protecting,” Daisy protested.

“Angel, you need protecting from your own damn foolhardiness,” Brock said wryly. “Considering how many stray dogs I’ve seen you stop to talk to just in the last few weeks, I’m amazed that you didn’t get abducted by some paedophile tempting you into his van with the promise of a puppy when you were a child. As it is, anyone who knows of your weakness for animals could use that against you.”

She couldn’t even argue with him, just made a face. “All right, so you might have a point there.”

“He does have a very aggravating habit of being right, the smartass,” Jack told her, making her giggle. She was beginning to feel warm, tried to wiggle her arms out of the blanket they had her wrapped up in like a cocoon.

“Stay there, you had a subdrop,” Brock said, tightening his arm around her.

“And now I’m feeling more than warm enough, thank you,” Daisy smiled at him, and he sighed and loosened his hold, letting her wriggle free of the blanket. “You two are like my own personal hot-water bottles,” she grinned, putting one hand on each muscled chest as she lay flat on her back.

“We’re your own personal _everything_ , sweetheart,” Jack said.

“Up to and including sex slaves?” she said cheekily.

“Sure,” he said, surprising her. “You need more?”

“What, now?” she asked, startled.

Brock and Jack both chuckled at that. “When you’re ready, angel,” Brock said, skimming a hand lightly over her hip. “Because I think there’s a whole lot more things we’d both like to do to - and with - you.”

“Tempting though the idea is, I think you’d better give me at least a little bit of recovery time,” Daisy said regretfully. “I already know I’m gonna be remembering tonight every time I so much as move tomorrow.”

That made Brock’s grin widen. “That’s just the way it should be, angel,” leaning over her, he kissed her again, and Daisy didn’t hesitate to curl her arms around his neck and kiss him back. Before, she might have worried about leaving Jack out, but now she could feel him watching, feel the pleasure he took in seeing her and Brock together. He was just biding his time, too, leaning in to get a kiss of his own when Brock finally released her.

“I’m not gonna need to move to be thinking about tonight, sweetheart,” Jack murmured when he too lifted his head. “You’ve been constantly on my mind from the moment we met you.”

“Yup,” Brock agreed. “We’ve talked incessantly about you. Badgered your poor friends for details.”

“Don’t think that I don’t know that,” Daisy poked him lightly in the chest. He grinned, not at all apologetic, snuggled closer to put his chin on her shoulder, press his face against her neck. She smiled as she felt his utter contentment, spilling over into her and Jack; all was right in Brock Rumlow’s world, and he was more than happy to let everyone know it.

 _All was right in Daisy Johnson’s world as well,_ she thought hazily, as she closed her eyes and let the lassitude sleep over her. Finally, she was right where she was supposed to be.

Sandwiched between two gorgeous, strong men who were utterly devoted to satisfying her every whim.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, the updated voting list is in the NEXT chapter. Please go look, then come back to THIS chapter to vote for which smut-ship you'd like to see set sail next!
> 
> Just as a reminder; you get ONE vote per NEW chapter, and you CANNOT vote for a ship that you have previously voted for, or one that isn't on the list :D


	31. Voting list

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter will be updated every time a new Crackship Smut is posted.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Now, please bear in mind that the order of writing here does not come from number of votes alone. It’s by order in which I received the request, then each additional vote ‘jumps’ the ship one up the list. It’s a complicated system but I like it and it’s mine so please don’t argue with me ;)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **THE RULEZ:**
> 
>  
> 
> **You can only vote ONCE for ANY pairing.**
> 
>   **You can only have ONE vote PER NEW smut chapter of THIS FIC. Votes anywhere else won’t be counted.**
> 
> **I _can’t_ accept Anon or Guest votesbecause I don’t know if someone is ‘cheating’ by voting twice if you do that. You can stay Anon or Guest but you need to leave me a username or nickname in the comment too.**
> 
> **You may think ‘I voted for more than that!’ Almost certainly you did. But those pairings already got written. You don’t get to re-use your vote.**
> 
> **_PLEASE DON’T_ VOTE in THIS chapter. Choose what you want to vote for, then go BACK and vote in the last Smut chapter comments. Makes my life way easier, guys, please help me out here!**

**Bucky/Sif:**                            AlekWalker, darklou91, Lula, paksiegirlie, Elawvu3, ValkyriePhoenix, Prudii_Aden, EllaC., Liles217, TheVorpalQueen, YviJoy, Yasmania, theLadyCheshire, jdho2, 1noel11, MsLane19, Selene Aduial, Greennonmonster, silver_side_of_the_moon, yapper444, ecliptic.nebulae, bunnigirl74, lonestar40k, superhero_heart, AwesomeSauce220, Aerinax, Shingalala, Whedonista93, Jocasta Silver, Kristina’sMyName, 8ucky8arnes, CHIBI_CRAZY, EvelanAudh

**Hunter/Rumlow:**              december2689, Hiddentrickster, Raveninflight, hopelesslygeeky, Isla_Singer,  pretzel_logic, mgt, KiraKyuu, caprica12, robina852, Mia, Greennonmonster, TheApocalypse, StokxCore, Lula, Miallome, sabelle67, Caroline, EllaMichelle, GhostUnderTheSheet, MintChipandBooks, GhostUnderTheSheet, Rabidphetsy, TheLittleSwan, superhero_heart, nellyn, Vindarna

**Skye/Wanda:**                     Jocasta Silver, Stacy, Daylights, MsLane19, Wolf-Dragon Hybrid Samurai, Lula, TWD, Kat, 181001, herokens, aoslover2001, Lia, Nollids, LadyWinterlight, kyle parker, wearethel1vingdead, Gothic_Phoenix, Spiritmaster, 181001, EclecticMania, catalinaorrego, IIxTigerLillyxII, Serenitysfire98, lonestar40k, I Just Won A Free Toaster Oven, Selene Aduial, Wolf_Cry, BTRlover2211, Nollids, Geeky_MikaBoo, SwifteForeverAndAlways, doggie52191, IJustWonAFreeToasterOven

**Skye/Iceman:**                     SusanTheHorseDW, Liles217, Greennonmonster, BurningCrashingRaining, wytewitch, LadyWinterlight, Lia, Ellibell, Val9, Misha, queenofquietdarkness, Isy123, Akalei349, krazykat00, IIxTigerLillyxII

**Skye/Natasha** :                  Amanda, Kat, TheRipplingWave, Val9, cinti.linda, Jinx Tonks, Spitfire303, PurplePeopleEater, LadyWinterlight, Commandr, TabbyPanther, BetsBets, Lia, Anna, stuffedpup, AmieeSnow, aoslover2001, callofhalo, Lindzy, doggie52191, kyle parker, valarm0ghu1s, IIxTigerLillyxII, Madjai6, Geeky_MikaBoo, 181001, LittleRedCupcake, I Just Won A Free Toaster Oven, SwifteForeverAndAlways, LairaPocus, Soccerstar66, sherlockavengersfan, TimMolodovAdler, Epinephrine, Matt_45, CassidyFisher415, Mmjohns

**Angel/Skye/Sam:**      EllaC, krazycat00, Yasmania, Lia, PureGirl, Annie, Notashamed, MsLane19, MintChipandBooks, Greennonmonster, alliexoxo, fiction reading chick, Clairedelalune, blackonyxcaydge, shondaysiamccoy, Bookworm1898, Holieshka, X-Random-X, AmieeSnow, demon’s purity, Jennavive, IIxTigerLillyxII, SakuraFairy, t0rqu3b0t, LadyCheshire, TheRipplingWave, Azzulria, EllaMichelle, TigerBlak, sarahgirl12384, Fenrirchick, Val9, Akalei349, Musicisme16, Bookcrazysongbird, TWD, Musicisme16, paksiegurlie, Shannon the chameleon, viveriveniversumvivusvici55, WisdomWriter25, shenixedthat, Khaleidoscope

**Jemma/Deadpool:**           ValkyriePhoenix, 1noel11, spitfire303, FreyaHawthorne, hopelesslygeeky, selene2, Prudii_Aden, M-M-M-MySharona, Yasmania, SarahJaneDoctor, phoenix_173, Oricke, Elliesmeow, SMC9, crudnick, LovelyGirl51, cheate, Ellibell, Selene Aduial, jagdoc09, MerciaLachesis, General_Zargon, Holieshka, Vassy11, Kristina’sMyName, laughingpillow, applejaxxx, EllieKess, XXfairy_lightXx, littlredtreefrog, Em Arch, FoodieMom, TheLittleSwan, boater, IIxTigerLillyxII, Whedonista93, Musicisme16, Artemis_Day, alltheshinies

**Jemma/Logan:**                   Raveninflight, MintChipandBooks, TheGirlWhoLovedTooEasily, hippo, NebulaSpider, selene2, SuzzieSidle, Elliesmeow, Lvngd, phoenix_173, ryotanimoto16, darklou91, Silent Phantom gal, bloominidiot, Rebelcat19,  MerciaLachesis, XXfairy_lightXx, Voldemort’s Dark Lady, novellafreak13, Selene Aduial, jdho2, coffeeandtv, sterek2234, Em Arch, bunnigirl74, JayjeHotchner, IIxTigerLillyxII, Harasume, EllaMichelle, nellyn

**Clint/Hunter:**                     StokxCore, AlekWalker, MissUnspeakable, Spitfire303, hopelesslygeeky, CassidyFisher415, phoenix_173, Stokxcoretoolazytologin, laughingpillow, EllaMichelle, Raveninflight, sabelle67, 84-Quill-72, CeliaEquus, tlyxor1, Greennonmonster, stephkae, readrider, CassidyFisher415, sabryelle, AWriting, kamadu, IDreamofAvalon, r_blok, Windstorm124, kacikaci, mimi11mary

 

**May/Natasha:**                    jeswho221b, Spitfire303, Daylights, Lori, YviJoy, EllaC., Kat, Annie, laughingpillow, FreyaHawthorne, Lexi, anon_aspasia, Dubstep_Wombat, shortiebirdytimbit, Geeky_MikaBoo, jesk13

**May/Heimdall:**                  Lori, Greennonmonster, SarahJaneDoctor, TheVorpalQueen, Loveina, alliexoxo, readrider, Jocasta Silver, AlekWalker, Black_Angel_Night, Prudii_Aden, yukarisawa, laughingpillow, jagdoc09, BabyWhite, RowanDreamer

 

**Skye/Cyclops:**                    Annie, Daylights, Bloomsky, aoslover2001, LadyWinterlight, Ellibell, lillyrosenight, Lia, Bookworm1898, darklou91, phoenix_173, Supernaturalgirl17

**Clint/Rumlow:**                   tlyxor1, Carly Carnations, Raveninflight, hopelesslygeeky, MsLane19, Miallome, Isla_Singer, Prue01, Colton45, AlekWalker, rainedoodle, EllaMichelle, Ryaaaaann, sabelle67, Greennonmonster, kamadu

**Skye/Pyro:**                           BurningCrashingRaining, SwifteForeverandAlways , Greennonmonster, Daylights, Val9, dixie326

**Skye/Hogun:**                      LadyWinterlight, Greennonmonster, Lizabeth, alliexoxo, Wynterfox89, ValkyriePhoenix, Prue02, CrazyScifiChick, Roars, Orlha, krazykat00, YviJoy, jvestaj, TheArtfulDodger588

**Victor Creed/Daisy:** kvdsouza, inugirl2469, Elliesmeow, anggita911, Holieshka, Lvngd, Princess PrettyPants, blackonyxcaydge, bloominidiot, silica, Doc, MCUFan34, ValkyriePhoenix, Raveninflight, Val9, liwsonen, phoenix_173, TheGroupofOne, EllaMichelle, PuckForPresident, dancingbear94, BadassSandSiblingatheart, mmischief, Killing Threat, Selene Aduial, Shingalala, sabelle67, hotlipsjenni1992, Hestia32, the_tricksters_daughter_95, CynicalSisi, mon_cherie

**Jemma/Angel:**                   Greennonmonster, bumble.bee.kawaii, SwifteForeverandAlways, Spitfire303, AwesomeSauce220, xxawsomexx, LovelyGirl51, tessafiction12, darklou91, MerciaLachesis, Vassy11, Em Arch, Marvelfan35, Musicisme16

**Thor/Ororo:**                        JeanneM2, ValkyriePhoenix, selene2, 1noel11, AmyL, Schaf, darklou91, Louizzze, ZeldaFitz, Tish213, krazykat00, sockserz, Val9, imagine wyverns, IIxTigerLilyxII, SwfiteForeverAndAlways

**Bucky/Kitty:**                        JJS4, Selene Aduial, yapper444, TheVorpalQueen, darklou91, MsLane19, Greennonmonster, Holieshka, bored_now, BeautifulApocalypse, Rachet, phoenix_173, The_Reader_Of_Words, AlekWalker, PuckForPresident, MCUFan34, CHIBI_CRAZY, verylexiful, Wynni, Sporks and Knives, EvelanAudh, JocastaSilver, HisHarknessJack, Serenitysfire98, AlekWalker, EmilySeaShells, Jocasta Silver, 8ucky8arnes, EquinePianist

**Skye/Darcy:**                 Kat, cinti.linda, lonestar40k, SusanTheHorseDW, r_blok, doggie52191

**Skye/Colossus:**                  EllaMichelle, Harasume, Unwillinglyable, EclipsedSun, Elliesmeow, Rachet, Selene Aduial, Bookworm1898, PuckForPresident, skmitton, AwesomeSauce220, lillyrosenight, Kristina’sMyName, Ellibell, IIxTigerLillyxII, TigerBlak, shondaysiamccoy, BabyWhite, MCUFan34, sockserz, xItachixLoverx101x, firebirdsalvatore, Shingalala, alltheshinies, bamababenv, SirenAlecto

**Jemma/Fandral :**                LadyWinterlight, mariisawsume123, tj1547, selene2, SarahJaneDoctor, amusewithaview, hafizatul sufiah yaacob, phoenix_173, Syllesta, jagdoc09

**Sam Wilson/Skye:** alliexoxo, krazykat00, SarahJaneDoctor, Ry, SakuraFairy, Lula, MsLane19, TWD, Elphie89, Maddie, IIxTigerLillyXII, lonestar40k, aoslover2001, paksiegurlie, bloominidiot, X-Random-X, Elliesmeow, Greennonmonster, nellyn

**Jemma/Clint:**                     Elliesmeow, clemyclem, AlekWalker, laughingpillow, NebulaSpider, starfish.dancer, catandmouse10, Vassy11, Shingalala, 1eyedstolenmare, OneMoreDay, AWriting, XXfairy_lightXx, Greennonmonster

**Rogue/Fitz:**                         SaraTorrens, FreddieMercury, Spitfire303, Prudii_Aden, Princess PrettyPants, GoddessHekate, Itakuurocks, phoenix_173

**May/Tony:**                           menmosynes_tears, Yasmania, kacikaci, Princess PrettyPants, MerciaLachesis, Bella Sorcerer, readrider, decdragon, solara1357, wicked17writer, EllaMichelle, Greennonmonster, Flynovaprincess, JenniferEsther

**Skye/Heimdall:**                 mnemosynes_tears, naru894, alliexoxo, krazykat00, skmitton, Greennonmonster, xxxarxxx, shiniest-warboy, IIxTigerLillyxII, Alijah, LadyWinterlight, Yasmin 97, solara1357, JocastaSilver, nellyn

**Steve/Wanda:**                   Captain Anniah, Cat98, boater, Lula, MCUFan34, CassidyFisher415, jdho2, MsLane19, darklou91, Raveninflight, Selene Aduial, Princess PrettyPants, HisHarknessJack, Serenitysfire98, queenmidalah

**Clint/Wanda:**                     Doc, AlekWalker, MsLane19, Captain Anniah, Sarra Torrens, Princess PrettyPants, SwifteForeverAndAlways

**Jemma/Jack Rollins** :       Princess PrettyPants, Lvngd, phoenix_173, amylou, Elliesmeow, SarahJaneDoctor, Vassy11, Shingalala, 1eyedstolenmare, tj1547, Em Arch, FoodieMom

**Fitz/Natasha:**                      independentalto, naru894, Prudii_Aden, Yasmania, Raveninflight, SarahJaneDoctor, Xbmca, Apathygrrl, r_blok, Skel90, AwesomeSauce220, EllaMichelle, CassidyFisher415, Mahna_Mahna, Tui, lonestar40k, miss_moonstone, catandmouse10, anon_aspasia

**Darcy/Sam/Rhodey:**        TigerBlak, krazykat00, coffeeandtv, t0rqu3b0t, Artemis_Day, phoenix_173, UrsulaR, paksiegurlie, Madd_Chatter, HisHarknessJack, Katiekrm, sara47q, Musicisme16, avhogan27, Holieshka, ladyaya, Kyrrh, EllaMichelle, KillingThreat, Antiel

**Fitz/Sif:**                                 hafizatul sufiah yaacob, Yasmania, Lori, SarahJaneDoctor, Spitfire303, yapper444, Prudii_Aden, WhoviainTributeSherlockian, r_blok, Apathygrrl, lonestar40k, AuroraBlix, EllaMichelle, AwesomeSauce220, Princess PrettyPants

**Logan/Phil C:**                      EllaMichelle, ValkyriePhoenix, CrumpetsAndCumberbatch, KrazyKeke, hopelesslygeeky, 84-Quill-72, Raveninflight, MCUFan34, YviJoy, HisHarknessJack, Rabidphetsy, sabelle67, beauty_is_in_the_eye_of_the_beholder, IDreamofAvalon, nellyn, loretta537

**Jemma/Bruce:**                   bumble.bee.kawaii, sammy4x4, EllaMichelle, hopelesslygeeky, Prudii_Aden, 1eyedstolenmare, PrincessPrettyPants

**Darcy/Bakshi:** amusewithaview, Princess PrettyPants, AlekWalker, Elliesmeow, cinnilla, r_blok, phoenix_173, Dubstep_Wombat, twilightfire, TigerBlak, Avengersfan22, Holieshka, beauty_is_in_the_eye_of_the_beholder, LovelyGirl51, Echopoet2962, Avengersfan22

**Bucky/Jane:**                        AlekWalker, Chey (PureGirl), Notashamed, LadyJayne, BurningCrashingRaining, MsLane19, Vampirella, hafizatul sufiah yaacob, blackonyxcaydge, Raveninflight, boshamp, darklou91, paksiegurlie

**Steve/Jane:**                         MsLane19, Emily, MCUFan34

**Rumlow/Ward:** superhero_heart, Sarra Torrens, alliexoxo, Raveninflight, hopelesslygeeky, Omoidashu, robina852, AuroraBlix, MintChipandBooks, AlekWalker

**Fitz/Wanda:**                        Laney, Cat 98, Prudii_Aden, nellyn

**Sam/Beth:**                           SoupShue, Elliesmeow, Spifire303, AlekWalker, r_blok

**Thor/Jemma:**                 Raveninflight, LovelyGirl51, silver_side_of_the_moon, r_blok, darklou91

**Jemma/Hogun:**                 Asteria-Sunshine, Jade, NebulaSpider, Rebelcat19, ValkyriePhoenix, PuckForPresident

**Wanda/Gambit:**               Maedae84, king of nightmares and dragons, darklou91, ValkyriePhoenix, SoupShue, Holieshka, inugirl2469, SeleneAduial, Serenitysfire98, Artemis_Day, CassidyFisher415, bamababenv, little_cheshire_fandom_cat, jarethsmoon

**Steve/Sif:**                             yapper444, Prudii_Aden, LadySaphire, Raveninflight, Tsuki no Yasha, lonestar40k, superhero_heart, ValkyriePhoenix, darklou91

**Loki/Rogue:**                        JocastaSilver, darklou91, Princess PrettyPants, Selene Aduial, HisHarknessJack, Serenitysfire98, IAmABoojum, bloominidiot2002, Raveninflight

**May/Drax:**                 Luanaks, Jocasta Silver, Fire_Redhead23, sabelle67, bunnigirl74, ValkyriePhoenix, YviJoy

**Clint/May:** pjorchestra, AlekWalker, laughingpillow, The Golden Snitch, justduck82

**Deadpool/Sif:**                 Safiiri, Prudii_Aden, ValkyriePhoenix, HonestTrickster, MadelineT, Raveninflight, darklou91, Kristina_Is_My_Name

**Sam/Bucky/Darcy:** TigerBlak, phoenix_173, Kitrazzle, HisHarknessJack, r_blok, Holieshka

**Gambit/Jane:** felicitysmoak, Artemis_Day, ValkyriePhoenix, Bookcrazysongbird

**Jemma/Peter Quill:**         Luanaks, darklou91, LovelyGirl51, SarahJaneDoctor, phoenix_173, Vassy11

**Darcy/Fitz/Jane:**                r_blok, lonestar40k, phoenix_173

**Bucky/Wade/Darcy** :       RageQueen89, Katiekrm

**Wanda/Scott:** DocOCD23414, Taradawn

**Jemma/Natasha:**              lonleyrose03, AngloAnon

**Frank Castle/Darcy:**         Greeklissa

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Don’t forget to go BACK to the previous chapter to vote – and to let me know what you thought of the smut, of course!**


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